To My Brothers
Passing time, several jars with you
In a public bar with weary service
The hours fix the world with glue
Dead end on that path of solution
Sharp edges, mind of our capacity
Lead on past our fears, behold
By this stretch of night, duplications
& why we march in darkness, cold.
Dead end on that path of solution
Sharp edges, mind of our capacity
Lead on past our fears, behold
By this stretch of night, duplications
& why we march in darkness, cold.
Ah, the comrades bar! Love the way the shattered reflections, get to march, but cold, into....
ReplyDelete...cheers, James.
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