| Silhouettes, dreaded swamps, oil baths from the factory lake,
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| I am dreaming of a painting from the spring of my mind,
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| I have defined the lines and now I shake.
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| Wretched palms, violent psalms, violet fades from the cheek of my babe,
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| I shall cover you and swaddle you in Eden’s last light,
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| I shall hope for the end of dark, dark days.
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| Betty’s bones, Betty’s vultures of love,
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| Are circling upon her not yet forsaken face,
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| It is darkness that hurts her, the dark lord is a hurter,
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| Hurting even the waves that lap at the shore of the silver bay.
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| Silhouettes, dance depressed, I am
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| The shadow of the neighbour that stares
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| Into the curtains of pain, the light frothing crazy behind his brain,
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| Curdling and dancing to his master’s off-brain,
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| Paul is alive, Paul is alive! |
| Open the fort!
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| It’s on and on, and on and on.
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| The Great Debaser. |