Wednesday, March 04, 2009

How to show yourself the door.

Five days, in the dead of night.
Where the laughter comes with
Streaks of fight.

Where the up before dawn
Is here but still gone
And the whispering whine
Is time after time.

When at home, Oh glory,
How the clocks melt down,
And the stench of strain
Is a everyday thing
So why oh why cant i
Grow wings…. Or fall down
Blind, so my eyes wont sting.

So off to the ever, and off to the
Green, to climb that sky,
To the burnaway king.

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