1981–1990 | |
Poem:
Alasdair Gray © 2005 | |
After which Agon all we gain is gift: Air, sunlight, ground to stand on, yeah, disease Which turns the soul to all from it bereft By Adam’s greed, pain showing what was, left. Delight without disease would stand us still. Hell herds us hence to Heaven: ill antidotes ill. |
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