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So how’s my heroin
In the arms of these
Once again
Burning in the window
Of a dark room
My friends
Talk to the walls
For moral support
Guiding my breath
To the words
That I sort
And dump
Into the world
By the quart
How bout
We look to
The sisters
Of mercy
For the measures
Of our depth
Standing clearly
In the high water
Of our dreary
Overcast and
Weary
Naturally off
By myself
In a place
Where I hang
My memories
And scoff
Bring your
Bashing to
The world
Crashing
And brake
Off a piece
Worth trashing
In your face
Is out of time
You wont be
Stepping
When crossing
The line
Where they hide
And close their eyes
Prey for changes
In the crashing tide
Matt Maxwell: 11/5/04
10:51 PM
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