The song of the open road...
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Listen! I will be honest with you;
  I do not offer the old smooth prizes,
   but offer rough new prizes;

  These are the days that must happen to you:
  You shall not heap up what is call'd riches,
  You shall scatter with lavish hand all
   that you earn or achieve,
  You but arrive at the city to which you were
   destin'd--you hardly settle yourself
to satisfaction, before you are call'd by an 
        irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you;  
  You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach'd hands toward you.

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