In broken fields of what stays open,
In standard hominess of over days,
We found you
Building a Wall of Signs.
Calculating people are lonely
In shadows, boards and potatoes,
Ranking Shoes in military highness.
Battlefields and handkerchiefs and battlefields
And Battlefields; something profound here
In the thoughty middle:
We saw Doing as a way to be sad and happy.
Stun-green seas wink to life
On Yearning’s floating carpet. After finding danger they
Dethrone Survival as Chance’s closest homie.
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