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another eighteen years
and the century's over
until then I need to sire
a desire
and put out one or two thunderbolts
color the world
and plant flowers
in your auricles
the Rainbow is but icing
if I can't blacken
the dream anymore
there's nothing left
to mourn
so put on a glove
let your gaze
shatter eye glasses
and embrace me gently
we're one
this large
wasted family

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