The music’s rhythm is curved and tender
And the transcendent light is undulating in thought
And definitive in nature,
Accentuated by the November blues.
The slippery mildew has an authentic essence.
Magenta blood spills out of my cuts.
Why is it we fear the ordinary
But feel extraordinary?
The fathomless voice of the wind screams in my ear.
The tree shades shiver.
Did you know the rain wants to travel in boats?
And past time is frozen in ice?
And cigarettes burn the universe?
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