Thursday, September 30, 2010


Mind spun, spinning like a ratchet, hatchet-running, funning around, inverted frown found
in mind now find hide away things to say that should be could be would be said
but so hard when that part your heart to mend to send for is half dead

Don’t worry the fury you shy away from, cry from shame in, will not hurt being burnt from out within
We’ll crank the winch, crush and clench and wrap-trap the sad-madness stagnant sitting pitting inside
And when making its way out, not a speck fleck left from under, rise high you will, ascend end eyes wide

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