Old, deep, weathered voice poetry
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EnglishAccents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lies You may tread me The very dirt but still like dust All rise just like moons And like sons with a certainty of tides Just like hopes springing high Still all rise You may shoot me with you words You may cut me with your eyes You may kill me with your hatefulness but still like air I'll rise