Sunday

nonsense 

Grow like the grass near the riverbed 
Beneath the midnight moon bring to me the women of the black sea only she can smell the time children here are blind of rivers in the healings candlelit dinner with silver spoons drops of honey antique clocks funeral pens green glass lamps take that chance dance in the rain touch your brain mess with forks eat grass blades December seems so far away like where bear sleeping clouds are thick were mountains are homes to men with goats hide her body in the trunk we got to get gas 

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