| I believe these pale bones are mine
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| And all this dust over that grave
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| Today should float and twist and whirl
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| Along the smoke of my loose wraith
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| In every grief-stricken blues
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| I feel the woe of that old scene
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| When lying dead under their feet
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| I cheered out loud at my new Self!
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| Futile puzzles I leave behind
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| Hastin my skin to peel & grind
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| Before thy essence vanishes
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| And torn out my soul to pieces
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| What I hear now, what I can see
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| Is part of a greater degree
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| And as I’m crawling back to start
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| I design and write my own Light |