I'd Like To Be The Snake

I'd like to be the Snake,
Whose skin doth often shed;
Like weary midnight wond'rings,
Abandoned in the bed.

I'd like to be the Cicada,
Who sheddith so the same;
To forsake this hue so pale,
And thus forsake it's shame.

To be rid of inborn mis'ry,
Free of purchase with the skin;
Tainted roots, grown deep in hist'ry,
Bearing fruits so rich in sin.





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