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The Corn Husk In Between
It has become most abundantly clear That I need not settle down this year Take off my boots, put the laces inside And sleep here, alone, for a while Would you let me go if I had nothing left to say? Would you let me go? I'll be gone tomorrow, anyway Do you remember amateur soothsayers, Troubadours, and the festival players Moods of bond would change with the weather And gathering, in song, together We spoke of him and guilt and science Limitations and defiance The early mornings we would dream of a corn husk, in between When you lie awake at night It's twice as cold here, without any light May I look for you in my dreams? And do you promise to look there for me © André Villoch
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