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Wednesday, November 28, 2012

On the Edge

Running wild, running free in the night.
Right leg up, another down.
Repetitively, until the sun burns the ground.
And as you jump, the whole world starts to cry.
For the sake of their emptiness.
Dullness of the endless gray skies.
From under the dust,
you trance through the night,
and you consume our breath like - dynamite.

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