| We stand on broken ribs
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| faces to the glass we drown
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| heavy mileage on our minds
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| we wrap the earth on cerebral folds
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| and the corpse we carry really is a weight we’d like to throw
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| we love the strange new animals
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| we love the fearful plants
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| but we all surrender
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| turpentine to rid us of our pasts
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| You would walk the rotten hillside
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| you would taste the clouds bellow
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| but the world you walk
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| is running water through
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| valleys in palms of hands
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| we all know we will be respected by greed and death and loathed by clarity
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| Jettisoned
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| emotions flood the banks
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| the valleys overflow
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| if only memory served us better
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| we could swim to dry our souls
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| we’re suicidal swans
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| we’re silence in throats we creep
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| you’ll know us by shaking ground
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| when ideas emerge from the deep
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| Dolphins have more dignity
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| A sleepwalking helicopter
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| gracefully deceased
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| Beauty makes the blind weep
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| to describe a song in color
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| is a portrait’s symphony
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| the light drips on closed eyelids
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| through holes in weathered sheets
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| curiosity stands up where strange faces hide and seek
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| swarming the webs of electricity
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| that dragnet the city
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| confusing power with duty
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| in a place with trees like origami
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| monstrous theories dance with nightmares
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| on the horizon absolute equinox
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| listening to history in the present
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| planets approach with lupine walks
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| Offering flowers to the dirt
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| like paralyzed dancers we decline
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| and smile and flee
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| but with years of past devotion
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| the crushing atmosphere
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| is bittersweet
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| In my waterfall here
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| in earth I’ll slowly disappear |