Rifle aimed at the ceiling
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Just the One instrument
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And you must have liked it here
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And you stayed, sitting down
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"old blue monk now there's a pretty song"
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Warm wet shadows
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The high bones of women beautifully wrapped
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And smoke and powders
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(Dance among these)
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(Dance among these)
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(Dance among these)
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(Dance among these)
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-----------------
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This Poem Is In Memory Of!
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| Robin Holcomb |
