If old man violence
Would take a rest,
To stop to suckle
Upon a breast,
The world might pass
The “Human Test,”
And those most crass
Might turn out best.
But old man violence
Was suckled on the venom
From a witch’s prune-dried tit,
So here we are,
And here we’ll sit.
It’s no illusion that we see
The Human Race split,
Because only babies’ drinks love.
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