Tales of Mere Existence
Because of the noise the geniuses are all dead.
What they lacked in numbers they built by
way of character and modeling clay.
In disappointment I drove down my favorite backroad,
stopped the car and sat on my hood for a day.
After each draw of the cigarette I stared into the
sky listening to the music pumping into the space.
As the night gently passed I laid back to watch the
stars dance, whether…
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