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Post by jerryspringer on Dec 17, 2007 17:54:58 GMT -5
Riddle me this, riddle me that; Yesterday I was Turkic; Today, I am not.
Memories of Slavic fragments passes me by, But I'll rather me Sarmatian, For that is my kind!
My better half heels for the Macedons, Betrayed I feel, no matter the purpose.
My neighbor to the right and left, I claim to be me; While searching for the true identity, still!
Be me, but claim me not to be you, I may be this, or that, or them; Altough never Thracian, in my hood!
Ancient artifacts whisper me lies, I wish to find something, Never to be found.
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Rhezus
Moderator
DERZA STURIA TRAUS
Posts: 1,674
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Post by Rhezus on Dec 17, 2007 18:49:16 GMT -5
Ani, the end of your work is such a disaster. Not even a rhyme. Here's the conundrum: I'm myself, though never claiming being you! That is to remeber... Very Thracian, in my hood!
Ancient artifacts whisper me the truth. You wish it was lye... You wish, all this was never found. But you want being in my booths.
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