Fiddlehead
my world
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All you colored shirts hang just as you had left
And you office door's closed, just as you had said
All your Dylan tapes stay unplayed and go untouched
And your poetry books are closed and collecting dust
Throw
it
away, so they tell me, to
help
with
the
hurt
Not for my world
Their grass dries, and moons rise, and clocks tick, and sun's lit
On this earth, not my world
- Album:
- Propaganda