There's no real way of knowing,
In which direction we are going,
Or the way the river's flowing.
Is it raining is it snowing,
Is a hurricane a blowing.
Not a speck of light is showing,
So the danger must be growing;
The fires of hell are glowing,
Is the grizzly reaper mowing?
Yes!
The danger must be growing,
For the rowers keep on rowing,
And their certainly not showing,
any signs that they are slowing!
Stop the boat.
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strange things i found in the back of my mind.........
a colection of poems and randomness that i thought up. i will occationally post poems i like in here but i will say where they are from. i do not like piracy!
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