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You were baptizing in aenon's sink,
When the master received credit
You were ready to shrink in the background
And not jealously,
You weren't thinking
"That's my job" or "my identity"
Even your name.
You didn't forget that you came to Manage the campaign.
And all this happened before prison-stay,
Dancing girls and sharpened swords were heading your way.
You declared his by oiling the saddle,
And anointing our great king before he went to battle,
That's your name...
Dear John
