There are trees which do not sway
today which was the day
of my ever present fight against
that face pressed against the glass, angst
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In the virgin woods of Italy
A girl passed through the nettles, scraped knees
Shouted at the bees, asked directions from trees
She didnt know which way to flee
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Invading me, the bees flight into my head
Starry night, the dreaded boy whose eyes fed
a little light in my head which blew up into a duet
oh the scope of the millinery poet
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her legs spread wide over a bridge
and he took the seat away
she fell headlong, into the blood tinged
river which had by then began to sway
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The river boat caught her as she fell
a chinese thatch hand of god glide did tell
a fortune which her fragile body could not match
her agile hand on fortunes met could latch
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and her lips, rose, could taste the blood
her finger did meeet the rousing flood
I cursed the cihld above who made me fall
but blesed that chinese ship, god heard my call.
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The water free, so quietly chirping her song
reflects my face so quietly forlorn
and as the sun shines pon my forehead a little bruised
I raise a smile to my lips and sing along, bemused.
but as the earth mves, she rustles a pen and a stream
of the waters consciousness is poured onto manuscript
she cannot stop feeling that rush of perplex scream
like an emotion of the deepest felt, none world is flipped
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