The Spaniards


Butcher bows
Sparse trails of haunted conquests
Through gales of spotless sunsets boon
O' gentlemen who suffer bright
It's so here we divvy up the blight
To speak while irons spark
Mark maids
My spoils are given rot
Take me as I am
Fearing aught
Upswept to unlaced bodice
To furies, I gave notice sight
Filled dragoons full of graves
These pretty -8's
We cried out of grace
Till past was all but kept
'Tis strange
The felled and their effects
Given blood
Yet nothing of the best
The misdeeds of the blessed
Take me as I am



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