The stand in will suffice, I suppose. A tunnel painted on a brick wall.
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When the crowd arrives in droves, they don't question the depth at all. I got a
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weak heart, so I've heard. I wouldn't know because it hasn't said a word. All
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these winters, not a sound. It probably never had a chance to thaw out. You
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don't touch what you want to survive, so this distance is keeping me alive
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until the ones that have loved me are dead. I will hold my breath. And pray
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that my aim is true. The meat sits in my blind spot. The maze around it is the
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meal I want. The meat sits in my blind spot. Hallelujah, got a trophy kill.
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Maybe the flesh will have its day. Maybe the meaning will not get in the way.
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God saves every third person, but he won't help us if we help ourselves I only
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marvel at existence in the language existence permits. Most hearts make
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terrible sounds, so I laugh. An army of images stalks the land in search of
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ideas. I am struck only when I think to step back. So a stand will suffice, I
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suppose. A tunnel paint on a brick wall. When the crowd arrives in droves, they
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don't question the depth at all.
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Touch Yourself
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Every Time I Die |