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Trick

Time: a reliquary or assignation
Your life among cinematic disasters: tidal wave, swamp thing, tsunamiA wickedly souped-up bore then minutes before the lights go on
Doubly sad because daylight savings offered an extra empty hour

Your body counted up in coins and curses thinking there must be
Another body, tougher, sunnier, somewhere inside

If only you could fuck it free

The one you want, the lanky blonde with the filthy mouth and pierced everything
Is gone and you are what you’ve always been: a squirrelly punk, dizzy with gin

Losing your shirt, climbing into the cage

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