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Why Why Think there is some mystic who will divine a path for our love? Must we offer our bodies at the shores of Cyprus? Tyreseus, ranting and deranged, speaks no more than the riddles we already ponder Speak priestess of Apollo, so that we may find in your derision the answers we seek Terpsichore, weave us a rhythm so we may step rightly blind though we are. Falling from the heights of ignorance into the snares of knowledge, what good may come of it? What more thrilling way to learn to walk then to run blind then fall, supplicant prostrate before the alter there to worship for always. |
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