Poems of Charles Hice 

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 Poor Man Walking

Poor Man Walking
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Streets of Gold they kept saying unto the me the old me was a drinking not ever thinking much of streets just money to drink another sweetsome beers not one or two or three but eye always wanted plenty even though it was not ever good for me and now the need is different the seed is saved inside of me my body will someday be changed to walk them streets of GOLD.
NO one is exempted from the death except the ones have said the JESUS is the GOD. The power of death has not no hold on us. The price a martyer pays is only this one life a sinner not ever saved may find hisself a dying twice. So think of that when the enemy wins and just walk poor man just walk them streets again.


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