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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