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Say What?

2014-02-21 05:06:32 by Stereocrisis

An angelic voice I knew before,

spilling forth once again

from the cup of sweet sorrows.

Our tomorrows ever after

will go on spent apart.

I stole answers from her waking mind as

a thief in the night, just before sunrise.

No questions in my sleepy heart.

Punch drunk blood spills

like color blind love.

A birds eye view

on a moon bright sky.

We aim to ride the starry skies

and leave the turning of the tides,

releasing doves

my blushing bride, and I.

We will stand behind what is good and right.

The point is moot,

it is a moot point.

Roll joints make loot.

It is a loot joint.