AND THE ARTIST GLANCED DOWN



Yeah, I will massage your time line
Wear it to the ground
Build a house around it
And let starlings roost within its fading roof
Life lines and decks of cards
Spurs in flanks and passwords
Do we live in such times
As these?
Where lovers depart one another
Without leaving nothing chipped?
No statue of memory?
No bronzed heart broken smouldering and cooling?
No marble bust, dusty and worn?
Left for generations of the future to find
And to think
‘Ah life lines! And decks of cards!
Spurs in flanks! And pass words!
Love was lost and love was taken
But the lovers left something memorable and something warm!’

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