Song on my Jukebox

When we were still young, at seventeen, we made the journey there and back/without a sniffle ,we amazed them/ with the senses we bathed in / those minutes we forked over/our role in the mess in the meadow/ tireless themes of a thousand hits/s like the walkway to thick bands of dreams/Now we’ve gone even further/garlands stripped from our horses/in pleasant conversation/ as our mounts grazed:/no more warmth to this marvelous earth we mammals are at stake. I could not forgive and forget the thousand lustrous voices by the hand of appearance/ the guise we strayed from/the coy balance of brown eyes in cahoots with who they spy on as ghosts belted us in dead end soup fever: a vacant game you possess/ in angry goodbyes

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