| MY SHIP |
| The stately old vessel limps weakly towards port as the roaring storm begins. Voracious vermin gnaw at its rotting hull, destroying the timber within. Colors that once flew proud and strong in distant and exotic lands, now flutter shamefully, tattered and torn, indicting the greed of man. As fading greatness is cheered true patriots are scorned, while demagogues are lifted aloft; this great ship of state we solemnly mourn, as our children march quietly off. Wattree |
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