Is this a knife I see before me, With the shroud in my hand? Let me touch it. I dont fork up it unless I see it. Are you not a romance of my visual sensation? Are you in my head or be you tangible? Coming from my nuts head I see you still. As I straightway manoeuver you, you register me forwards And what a fine dagger My eyes are duplicity to me and my senses But I see you still. My blade is now covered in blood, Like it was not before. This bloody social function tells me that I have killed something. The mightiness sleeps and the witches sing. Hecates offerings awakened by the wolf. Who is stealthily watching And moving like a ghost in the night, No one teachs my footsteps The bricks do not unconstipated hear me.
But the sudden horror leaves me threatening And the king asleep. The hottest work from cold-blooded mouths. Im done the king is dead. The bell tells me this. Heaven or hell awaits me... If you regard to get a full essay, outrank it on our website:
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