| We rode along the linear scaffold
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| To a fertile sidetrack
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| Not yet been tamed
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| By urban architecture
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| Unknown in a rural village
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| Tresspassing silent roads
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| Deserted bu television natives
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| Rows of rusty tracktors left behind
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| To keep the sunset company
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| We strived the valley sides
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| Reached the bright blue castle
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| It appeared in defiant solitude
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| Spreading scraps of paint
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| Out on the October sky surface
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| From inside a giant panorama
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| Our conversation evolved
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| To women and witches and sex
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| We ate the saucy beaf
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| And dark rumanian red
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| Before nightfall dragged us into its coat
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| To watch to circular star belt
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| Wrapping us tightly together
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| In the pale flame of the parafin lamp
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| A blue rope lowered onto glowing necks
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| We entered the circle of branches spread out
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| Like countryside bohemians
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| Reeking of whiskey and wool
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| The knife cut from grey to red
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| A brotherhood of blood
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| Dripping down on the heather
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| And into the soil
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| We were mystics balancing
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| On the plunge of knowledge
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| Ready to fall in ecstasy
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| Of retire smart stupidity
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| After a one-night stand
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| With anima mundi |