all of them are over, no game plan in mind
why not run, and try to find
an empty name.a pool to feed
the paint is black, the earth so hard
we turn ground,broke the soil
tracks are left, soon to dry
our sighn is left, we shake and float in the brush
skipping sake ,pitty, furry.
blood near steam clears.
the black bird warns, so we fly.
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