The spinning singers,
Screechings on the strings,
The batting beats blasting,
Veins showing,
Cripple to the ground,
And blurt it all out,
Run away
Repel.
Roots are reaching,
Etching to the tallest light
You've grown immune
and begin to crawl, creeping
for the thirst of pleasure
stepping over, slowly
standing
somber
and stay.
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