| Room in the east invested with meanings,
|
| Open to none but the strange and the wild
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| Sunset encounters with destiny’s chances,
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| Envelopes marked for the personal life
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| Night falling, hiding the poets transgression,
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| Blown in the winds of aquarian tides
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| Echoed words spoken by token romantics
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| Rock 'n roll supermen,
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| Ghosts of new vice.
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| Making love in strange autos whilst lifes ink
|
| sings always
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| That love is swift arrows my dear
|
| Oh, God in some heaven whose number
|
| is seventeen
|
| Dressed you in blue jeans this year
|
| To torment my soul
|
| Oh, leave me alone…
|
| Rules to be broken by reckless and young men,
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| Odes to be written by passions sick hand
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| Seeds to be sown on the rich fields of promise,
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| Ends and beginnings that never quite meet
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| Nothing of value that hasn’t yet vanished,
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| Brown-eyed and wise as the feminine fates
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| Evening’s sweet menace, revealing, inviting,
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| Highways to paradise
|
| Grey lines of grace.
|
| Making love in strange autos whilst lifes ink
|
| sings always
|
| That love is swift arrows my dear
|
| Oh, God in some heaven whose number
|
| is seventeen
|
| Dressed you in blue jeans this year
|
| To torment my soul
|
| Oh, leave me alone… |