I met a face with ring rounded pocket eyes
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That shaped folded banks inside
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As he shivered out thoughts
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They went: "golden and pale wind whispers breathe New Orleans"
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Through basements and racetracks met hollowed out from stretching mouths
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All these thoughts were rolled onto needles
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They spilled from heads tumble like apples fell into the sky,
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That¡¯s where they hide,
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Where rubies turned diamonds
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Like textures like sunshine
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Behind hands arms lift into its own
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As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
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Out of their throats pours tongues licking down
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"What will we become?"
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Rhythms fed gently in vacuums perspired
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Will stay where it's warm,
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Where it's safe from the down beating drums as habits
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Pull the sleep out covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine
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Stables And Chairs
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Portugal. The Man |