It gets thinner

 


A vision within what cuts it apart
Incisions into what will never leave
Positions with which we get stuck into
A bubble-gum dream and tricks up your sleeve
With time we’ll tell what level of hell
We’re going to live if I see you there
I dare you this forgive me with food
Put me in your mood pretend that you care
And see with a new vision

Fiction is for the writing of books
My face is a fish full of hooks

Prepare me

Your dinner

Can’t cut this any thinner

.
.

 

 

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