Monday, 18 July 2011

flooding the mountain tops

sparkling pillars of free flowing nothing,
tumbling out of all the words you swore to me,
you swore to me? what a battle.
I'm on the range and rattled,
refusing my saddle,
but can't you see?

you could flood this whole town,
I saw it in a grainy film,
where all the world was broken down,
where mice and mops and wizards almost drown.

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