on a hill in lancashire

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when England rocks

it's lights flashing gently neath the red tinged darkness

and warm winds kiss my brows and feather my hairs

the darkness seems to fade off its own horizon

and visions of fired hells

and weeping bones

slip into the night sky

from where sparks

in glimmers of blue

rain down

on my person

on the airs

upon the land

and above the shaking cities

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