The harlequins dancing daughters

come on over looking for diamonds

they dress with Windows to their soul

the harlequins dancing daughters

maybe they will never know

the suffering of the mimes

The court the ports the love in’s

the time when clocks hadn’t been invented

all those days long ago

those faces were not

even up there

the only face up there

was the one on the moon

that had once been split in two

this river is just a trickle

No fossils yet only their memory’s

these words look like objects

the word  dead looks like a

twin propeller helicopter

not even invented yet

 

 

 

 

 

 

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