note a lie.

It smelled like rain
Your song was climbing up my smoke a whispered fake.
There was, a mile away, a fire, a star, and a shepherd sheltered in the roofless sheepfold.
Here and around your banjo shaming slow a touchless melody, reminded us of nothingness.
I didn’t care, I never do, but however, I still wonder, how one can make the music lie.

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Comments

[catherine]

Oh what a world it seems we live in..
Oh what world my parents gave me ... RW