Permission
Martigan
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Hoofbeats cling into rhythm
of the jolting of a cart
The coachman's cowl that flutters
Like the owl's wing through the night
Bears something in its purple hem
That hides behind the coachman's face
He smells the wind - he feels his aim
Goes anywhere and back again.
Two blinded eyes shine a scaring light
The nights ain't dark for all of us
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No demand nor her permission
What he does is what he knows
Who'd take care of his old vision
If he didn't care