The wine and rain are here again and a powerless darkness had laid me down. The light are out all over town but the earthquake got me out of bed. See the little bird fly 'round his head as the little bot sits on the ground and makes the toy cars drive around. It's a loss that I can't comprehend, 'cause his mother died the other day. He's only three years old. Her body's gone but her soul is here to stay. See the little birdy watch him grow.
October ended with a single feather funneling its way to muddy Earth in front a funny sparrow copycatting,
Eventually it would select and circle one as if to pause and crown the victim of a loss I wasn't comprehending,
There's been a fundamental loss we aren't comprehending,
It's said the winged in post-mortal visitation echo well the stasis of a spirit taken from its only home, a legend quoted by the wreathing of a grieving child when all that's left to do is sit and watch the creatures grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow,
The wins and rain have begun inching into frame, like darkness with a bounty on whatever lay me down,
The town had been retiring to its quarter as if waiting for the earthquake.
See the little birdy watch him grow. The winds and rains and here again and a powerless darkness had laid me down. The lights are out all over town but the earthquake got me out of bed.
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