A sonorous voice
uplifts a crumbling crust
I’ll take the low ceiling
for the downcast evening
a silence drawn out
devoid of any suppositions
we called ourselves professionals
we’re more confessional
we lift your eyes to the hills
where does that hand come from?
I might be more melancholy than you suppose
these labors froze
even when we wear suits
our cars all stalled
bumper to bumper
lose our shit
to cherry pickers
and milk spillers
hidden in our sleeves
was only pair of diamonds
build me a house
by the beach
reach for the seas
where there be dragons

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