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st peter & st paul
a pilgrim's corpse thuds to the earth when the wind begs it
a stick snaps, dread cracks all over the mud
in my own mass i sit freely and peacefully, flick the lights on, and
talking to oneself becomes a holy pastime.
heads wring empty when the stone hits
in a daze, curse our dreams and we err on the freer side
lay a weary head down on the lion's chest,
my eyes drag down to hell in such sleepy pews
a stick snaps, dread cracks all over the mud
in my own mass i sit freely and peacefully, flick the lights on, and
talking to oneself becomes a holy pastime.
heads wring empty when the stone hits
in a daze, curse our dreams and we err on the freer side
lay a weary head down on the lion's chest,
my eyes drag down to hell in such sleepy pews
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