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Wolf Throats

de Platon Karataev

I'm a thought, I run without feet
I'm a thought, I fly without wings
Their hunched furs in shreds, and they haven't been fed
The wolf throats are red as they howl at me mad

This upward falling breaks my bird bones
I have nothing to atone for

Can't you see that the conductor is dead?
The orchestra's led by a score that's unread
Their hunched furs in shreds, and they haven't been fed
The wolf throats are red as they howl at me mad

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