It's pulling apart at the seams The openness of the sky The nakedness of the trees It is the reality I can not face with eyes open Drenched in this chemical A process that has become my burning left arm I see the crosses They comfort me I see the crosses When syringes tease me and leave their mark Trails that I didn't want But somehow I am stuck with them
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WORD AS A VIRUS - EMPTY OCEANS
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