The space between us is inches the wonder behind us the sounds ahead I am bothered to say there’s a mystery but I don’t care who knows it the show it goes on the train stays on the tracks and I am collecting notes the remote chances that the turn-on will go off I am scoffing at any other situation the conversations go on and the announcing takes a trouncing I am thinking about wandering off there are salads we write ballads about and rolls we dream of the trouble we hope to keep ourselves from the cover we are shoving ourselves out of joints our noses are growing weaker the sisters missing themselves the shelves overfull with annoyance the trial and the error the caring and the carers taking over the out the through the prepositions that glisten in their darkest minutes with any time in it I will stay calm I will make new propositions and I will win them I will spin them out of control and through the truth the youth of the dreams and the worries that seem senseless the tense wishes itself future though the present is wrapped up in the past we can’t last around the next bend but we’ll befriend the clues and use what we’ve got the mafia’s bought a new hold on this and my ears can’t hear the muted trumpets the editing you betiting goes on and on silently we have more to say
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