It wasn't me. You can't prove anything.


2009-06-10

Day

There are labors broken and labors mended.
People warship your path behind and spit ahead.

Tours are built and fall.
Somewhere, someone is making a stained glass window.

Horns blowing all around a city, and industry lying still.
Holding hands and snuggling on the couch.

Our masters are thinking of something else.
We are left to our selves for a while.

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