Magical Jukebox: People Are Strange

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Goddess, Earth, of Gods and men the source, Endu'd with fertile, all destroying force; All-parent, bounding, whose prolific pow'rs, Produce a store of beauteous fruits and flow'rs, All-various maid, th' eternal world's strong base Immortal, blessed, crown'd with ev'ry grace; From whose wide womb, as from an endless root, Fruits, many-form'd, mature and grateful shoot. Deep bosom'd, blessed, pleas'd with grassy plains, Sweet to the smell, and with prolific rains. All flow'ry dæmon, centre of the world, Around thy orb, the beauteous stars are hurl'd With rapid whirl, eternal and divine, Whose frames with matchless skill and wisdom shine. Come, blessed Goddess, listen to my pray'r, And make increase of fruits thy constant care; With fertile Seasons in thy train, draw near, And with propitious mind thy suppliant hear.

 
Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom Have you been borne yet & are you alive?
Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages.
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests.
Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war?

 
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