and I would like to look like a tree with a lot of words instead of leaves. I haven't been very sucessful yet but every metamorphosis takes some time.
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We are chains of lies
Clipped to the high poles in the plains
We are rattling in the wind
And between us
Above and below
The echo’s cold and flat
True,
There is a blue gate in the seaside fence
But it is opening into a slightly different picture
0 Comments:
Saturday, August 02, 2003
10:41 PM
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