| I’ve learned any electronics are useless
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| Oil lanterns
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| Maybe a burning newspaper if I’m low on oil
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| The attic’s at the top, but the cave goes straight down
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| I don’t really know how that works
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| It’s not my job to know
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| Apparently
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| I’ve only gotten so far
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| Maybe three hundred feet at most
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| There’s nothing in there so far, but every step I take
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| Fills me with more dread, more anxiety, more anticipation of something
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| Something just ahead
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| Or something just behind me, just above
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| Somehow underneath
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| In the walls
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| I just can’t seem to walk any farther
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| There’s one line of rocks
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| One gate of pebbles formed by my stopping every time in the same spot
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| Rationally and clearly I think to myself
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| What’s different from any of the steps you took before versus that one?
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| It’s just one more
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| Maybe a couple more after that
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| But there’s something unspoken
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| Some yelling, some slicing, pinching
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| That pulls me back out every time
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| I locked the attic weeks ago
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| My wife and daughter stopped yelling up to me |