Shackled sun reheats the streets upon which we have flown
As
Take me to the church where my father and my
I feel uneven, like the bones are pushing right out
I don’t want your body, I don’t want your mind
Cos
Dream Reality September 2005
Your dream reality
It puts you down to
Car door's frozen
I can't get to you
Your window's open
The cold
The ship was sinking; we were drinking, singing one last
paper houses line the streets
the streets create a town
towns grow
Strangle the urge
Choke the feeling
Hide it deep beneath the surface
Quickly
she swears she fell from heaven
a short fall from holy
they say, history will find us on the last train
and
this cigar, burns a hole straight through my jeans and
through
June 2006
You and I should get away, escape before the
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