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the chance of a lifetime
The breath of opportunity
Smells a lot like gasoline
And your tired routine
Is as played out as old '78s
Flatline on the delta
River to the shore
Asphalt complexion
Ground my eyes in sand
To dull their lustre
Hairs in the drain are cursive curses
to your burned out muse
as the swamp weeds menace
perfect calves and ankles
marred only by stretch marks
The waves doesn't care for nicotine sobs
For an atheist's prayer
Or for the truth
Do the right thing, Captain
Last edited by super deluxe; 01-11-2005 at 03:53 AM.
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