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david moore - a wasted illness lyrics
through vaults of pain
enribbed and wrought with groins of ghastliness
i passed, and garish spectres moved my brain
to dire distress
and hammerings
and quakes, and shoots, and stifling hotness, blent
with webby waxing things and waning things
as on i went
“where lies the end
to this foul way?” i asked with weakening breath
thereon ahead i saw a door extend +
the door to death
it loomed more clear:
“at last!” i cried. “the all+delivering door!”
and then, i knew not how, it grew less near
than thеretofore
and back slid!
along the gallеries by which i came
and tediously the day returned, and sky
and life—the same
and all was well:
old circumstance resumed its former show
and on my head the dews of comfort fell
as ere my woe
i roam anew
scarce conscious of my late distress . . . and yet
those backward steps through pain i cannot view
without regret
for that dire train
of waxing shapes and waning, passed before
and those grim aisles, must be traversed again
to reach that door
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