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By Untamed Bird Date: 2001 Sep 24 Comment on this Work [[2001.09.24.22.08.17373]] |
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The dishes are dirty Dust collects in webs Around my brain My nerves shot My dreams strange The dead walk Tanned and muscular Knocking on my door By an ocean view I need your arms Your shoulder But you go flying off To foreign concerns Worried about trips To heaven I worry too If this stiff upper lip Will block my view |