blood work done will say we’re poison i
will taste from your lips will you taste from my
lips to be sure we’ll sit here turning
blue together one final collapse of our union is
well deserved goodbye surrounded by his tribe
shaman tells of men in the sky no one will
believe the contrails in the sky will prove him
right fell in love with isolation an obvious
thought given time to reflect on events
we’re finding blessing in departure a
slowly decaying resolve to set forth alone i wish
you well
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