There¡¯s no cure so why should i care
|
You have fled into this blackness
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In this sling i must contain
|
|
You use your force
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To comfort my trembling hands
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And fold them aside
|
|
These hued eyes
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They have sent
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The longest beatings
|
The hour bows
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To seek some light
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With golden strings
|
|
You construct this wheel
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With your threads of argentine
|
|
-----------------
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A Vessel For A Minor Malady
|
| Shannon Wright |
