| Not all limbs have erections
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| Sometimes even you have to decide
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| Which is up and which is down
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| Which travels and which is stationary
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| Which travels to stations and which travels aimlessly
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| And whether desire can perhaps best be described
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| As a train running into a tunnel
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| Take your platform hands and run, I said
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| Between train track: thighs
|
| Not all limbs have erections
|
| Sometimes even you have to decide
|
| Which is up and which is down
|
| Which travels and which is stationary
|
| Which travels to stations and which travels aimlessly
|
| And whether desire can perhaps best be described
|
| As a train running into a tunnel
|
| Take your platform hands and run, I said
|
| Isn’t monotonous? |
| Isn’t it monochromous?
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| But there’s a light! |
| Do you see it?
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| It shines from the hole through your hand
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| And how did I get here? |
| To the hand!
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| I say: the body is one-way street
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| And the bodies, like your fingers, bend only inwards
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| Not all limbs have erections
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| Some curl inwards
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| And some have braces!
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| Those train track braces!
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| Embraces! |