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Did my wings hang low

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Tarring trees and the tops of flowers.

I never ment to plow reap or sow.

God save the flowers from my heavy hands.

My heart doesn't laugh anymore it is too hard to open bitter lips.

Sealed with an urgent yet quiet kiss, they are frozen.

I wonder if she passes me by on the street.

I wonder if she truly was.

Or was she the bitter metaphor of a strungout lovejunkey.

Will you never sing or laugh again monkey?

Revive your soul blue monkey.

The key is yours then so is the price.

Guilty heads hang low.

Is it false pride that keeps yours high.

What keeps you here blue monkey?

Broken wings?





Written by Time
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