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Young and Restless
The young pilgrims are restless
The young pigeons are featherless
They scamper and coil in fear
They sweat and moil for care
They felt the strike into fenced face
They bled as the blood raced
Down mountain cheek mingled with tears
They congregated in confused wine spears
Abandoned huts, deserted villages
Empty coops with wild flying feathers
They are blinded from homes safe rest
They are frightened away from the secure nest
The young pilgrims are restless
