03:55 

Стихи про TF2

PXRain
"Any tree can drop an apple. I'll drop the freaking moon."
Украдено с /v/ форчана.Это такой вин, что даже вин.
Кто-нибудь, прошу, скажите мне название и автора оригинала.


Once upon a Dustbowl dusty, while I shapeshifted strong and lusty
Over many a disguise possible from the cloaking devices roar.
While I laughed, nearly capping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my Dustbowl door.
"Tis the BLU Team," I muttered, "tapping at my Dustbowl door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Back to the point red turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something 'round the corner;
Let me see then, what threat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Here upon I turned to the left, when, with many a girth and heft,
In there stepped a Russian Heavy of the beta days of yore.
Not the intelligent was he; not a class did he attend at Harvard or Yale;
But, with stature of hippo or whale, perched near the Dustbowl door -
Perched upon a bunch of boxes just in front of the Dustbowl door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

But the Heavy, sitting lonely in near the point, spoke only,
These three words, as if his soul in those three words he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a sandvich then he buttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Medics here have left before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have left before.'
Then the gunman said, "Cry some more."

"Be those words our sign of parting, Russian or fiend!" I shrieked upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the 2-Forts wooden shore!
Leave no crumb as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the room in front of my door!
Take thy boxing gloves from out my heart, and take thy form from front my door!"
Quoth the Heavy, "Cry some more."

And the Heavy, never quitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the sandy floor of Dustbowl just in front of my starting door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the bullets o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
The Heavy taunts - Cry some more!


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