Wednesday, February 13, 2008

No ghosts allowed
On hallowed ground
The shallow sound
It's sinking
We're thinking
Like brains of the sun
Bullets from a gun
The short straw isn't fun
It's blinking
And letting the blurr slide.

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After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...