“Shine”

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Cyrus McGoldrick

Cyrus McGoldrick

A feeling divine

The light sets behind the pines

A pack of wolves whine

Hunting has its time

The old country doesn’t mind

Something undefined

A natural lust

Hunger wants us to survive

Moths all turn to dust

Drugs turn men to crime

Words left dead without a rhyme

Murder the despised

Turning to the skies

Howls of hunters wet the eyes

Songs of taking lives

Cyrus McGoldrick/2014

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