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At The Moment Of Silence

the TV head exploded at just the moment when the rainbow paint shouldered the basket


and reached the frame toucha diamond within the serpent within the skeleton with the


desert was a sand in the her eye, and that's just how it was back then, the stairs, the snake


the cover of the ablume plume of a mind with a red line turning it up for a tuning, smashed


the begger keeps falling asleep hypnotizing himself into a dream whistling for a hum dinger


three men died for that moment of silence, it twas a song, it twas a wrong way sign on the


tattoo of a mermaid, and my step dad said it best, i was longing for my vest, and she ran


her finger down my southern accent, I've been there before she says, it wasn't like that at


all, and then my sister said he didn't throw the sand into my eye, it is a secret it is a song


written just for me, it was and it is true, around the point of truth, we are all here to introduce


the introduction of the song of the begger walking along the desert found a desk and a


compass, sat down again to settle the maruadres, that's a theif in a sneekt syndome for a


cd i lost a long time agoo, and within the cd was a tape, that is a worm you have to eat to


believe it would habve been great, and my step dad saw it he said i was honest and dind't


even think about it twice, he told me to always know what I said already back in the day


it was ivory, back in the day they were white, before the clouds go goodbye before the


mind the sky the tear the chop the firework of the gypsies once more again art thou you


I wouldn't know I wouldn't say, I am getting punished for questioning myself again and


that is the truth that is what I thought too, the handshake then the broken man, where


foreart thou the diamond in the sutra, the reflection of a talking ah the hand of the fan


whom it was who it is what a woe where could it be the answer we seek twas a staff


with an S and a capital punishment that was a horse of a different colour back then we


could never being now we could and we do and we did and we that is where it happens


now and again, find thyself questioning the voice inside your head, the voice in the tongue


of the past in the basket, twas whom, twas a shouldered offence, twas just a thought then


climbing down the rope swing, what is it what it is and what it was, serpentine speaches


sweeter than recess, at point c it is the cadeacus that did it, summoned from the book


it was on the window sill it was in the lap it was the spider in the trap of the mirror caught


in an inverted spigger, reaching out touching the coulours of the rainbow with a stick


thinking again for an instance it the thought you siad you wooulnd;t think again it is and


was a testament in the black prayers that is a black vest for the bulk of a black tabernacle

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