the words I'm running
and from that silence impertinent
consuming the world among piles of fire. There
have to come to dance
codes and those heavenly hellish
that mixture of Hades and soybean juice
fueling the brain in search of awakening.
Open your eyes in the morning,
run off the clock
and suddenly see that he has spent that night and start again.
Dream, dream ... Dreaming?
Dream, dream ... (Yawn).
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