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Miserable Strangers

de King Creosote

And your words chased round and round in my head
Last night
They chased their own tales
And your words jigged round my mind all night
To look at me now, I'm quiet as sound

And the tide shrinks back into its womb
And I hope the empty shells and bones of your stories
Will litter and clutter the shores
And I hope that when I find them
I'll remember how they danced
And the racket they made
When they were alive

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