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Forging your spears with blood from our hearts,
scorning not lust but derision
Which mission in life shall die in my hands ?
Strong are the stems of Nasturtium
Calling the winds for a knowledge untaught,
which passion shall never disturb thee ?
Which mission in life shall die in my hands ?
Strong are the stems of Nasturtium
Forging your spears with blood from our hearts, scorning not lust but derision Which mission in life shall die in my hands ? Strong are the stems of Nasturtium Calling the winds for a knowledge untaught, which passion shall never disturb thee ? Which mission in life shall die in my hands ? Strong are the stems of Nasturtium
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