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Tonnerre distant

de Mystic Serene

I hope, I plead
This reaches someone soon - before this head becomes nobody much later.
I see real as an aging face, with lines of time put right in place.

We fuck, like tides, while Father City smokes up Mother Countryside leaves her giggling leaves.
I see real as an aging face, with lines of time put right in place.

The blitz is in the grandkids now, with elders feeling so left out.

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