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HORSE HILL
Under a house of rotting limbs three boys dined Toasting to the elements because they were so inclined
For the chill in the air and heaven's sake The children gave to a slumber from which they'd never wake
An air raid siren lay silent on the hill in the screaming of a torturous kill
Flesh lay strewn across the fields a familiar stench shere flies remain Bring memories of a sweet breeze yearning for the wanderer and the young ones slain
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