The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. Even the horns were easing into the concept and the woodwinds in the second movement were particularly well-orchestrated. But he did not follow on with the thought. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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