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Homer's (the blind man's) poetry as seen by the waiter "Iliad IIX"
And I struggle and fight wringing from the hours sweat, blood and tears& dollars. I do it for glory, for money, for the car, the rent and for women I waste perfectly good hours, from the daily time I have, I waste in ignorance the blessing of life, slicing away time, stabbing minutes, killing hours senseless do I.
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07/06/08
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