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Murdered by the sky.
Among the forms that move toward the snake
and the forms searching for crystal
I will let my hair grow.

With the limbless tree that cannot sing
and the boy with the white egg face.

With the broken-headed animals
and the ragged water of dry feet.

With all that is tired, deaf-mute,
and a butterfly drowned in an inkwell.

Stubmling onto my face, different every day.
Murdered by the sky!
Beside the mess
Beside the love
I never thought I'd find a soul
That'd fill my heart
With just a laugh

Beside your skin
Beside our lives
I'm glad to have you here
Smiling next to me
My sweet America.

— The End —