“And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 19-09-2024 19:53:08
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