I am sitting on a dragon s wing
singing ballads of some ancient times.
They do not longer exist ,
only in my creative mind.
Summer's good ,
I'll pick up mushrooms then.
In the winter I will cook a spicy broth.
I will feed with it my merry small gnomes.
they will share it with monstrous trolls.
I'll start writting a book of songs.
Time will pass, but memories will stay.
they will go from a man to a man.
and my thoughts will stay in somebody's veins.
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