Between the high and the low, in this night.
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,
Wheezing ravens, when
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
For any part of them we can make out
"Now it's my turn to sing!"
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.
He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
Empty streets I come upon by chance,
That desire has ever built, have approached
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
Blurring the terrain,
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,
The bees are buzzing,
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,
Wheezing ravens, when
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
For any part of them we can make out
"Now it's my turn to sing!"
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.
He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
Empty streets I come upon by chance,
That desire has ever built, have approached
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
Blurring the terrain,
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
Dreaming time has reversed—and you,
The bees are buzzing,
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