April 28 Drone You Wind Blown Spring Drone Me ON


Dawn showed itself and I heard this melodic drone shoveling death wings and swords out of my mind, baring my teeth at death and saying fuck off not yet, I will not play your games, I will not live your lie, no,
not yet you devil’s mate, I will not open all the piles of death letters at my door, I ain’t ready yet, no, not yet, I know when you want me really, Oh I know your drums and fife corps at the rivers edge.

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proletaria

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RhYmOpeDia

Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

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IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

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Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

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IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

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