Cursed Eyes
¶ 1
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Through two cursed eyes
Things wither and die,
Houllier their manager alone.
Talented red shirts
Through those cursed eyes,
Still alone.
Sleek slender hands
For the team he handles,
Tactics forming on his lips.
Through those cursed eyes
Things shall rot to the bone.
The road he travels,
With two cursed eyes,
Shall be a legend known to Anfield.
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