Reality rose like the sun, and still i slept through it.
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"I can always witness it another morning...."
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The thoughts like thse are cemented in procarastination.
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Now this part of "she" is liquid form somwher on the floor,
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as a self defiant need for a cure.
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Diagnosed to emerge and roam away from roads thick as foam.
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you wish to burn the candles that queitly service the arm.
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another day with the shades pulled down until the swallow returns her to sleep.
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A father knocks on the silent door while this part of "she" has become an inferno shame,
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louder than we expect from shuch silent candles no so secret anymore.
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Now the eyes of my eyes have opened.
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Now the eyes of my eyes cling dear.
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Never let the swallow return you back to sleep.
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The smell of wounds have left you bug-bitten here,
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and again i know reality shall rise tommorow.
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This time i hope to be awake, for i cannot postpone another morning.
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Never let the swallow return you to sleep.
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-----------------
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Halo Of Flies
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Cave-In |