Now that he's wearing out and thin -
All stretched out on a hopeful horizon,
Balancing the scales within
He'd rather confabulate a fabulous disaster-
Murder his imbecile yet celibate master-
For desires as delicate as gatling guns,
Were sinking his sanity and a heart cast in plaster
Therefore, his positively potential bride,
Obviously oblivious in her Bengali pride,
Lit his freedom's pyre and watched his soul escape,
Before deciding to let his fate decide.
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