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If there is ever one day that the stars will align in their disarray I'll cry, hope, and whisper to the ground beneath me To take me under, six feet deep This is the dreaming hour The time when they are out The sweeping voices of river sheets And the creaking of the tree towers Floors of forests call beneath The leaves and pictures like pacing feet Stuck between the lines In my dank dark hole I flicker the fingers Like a flame growing cold This warm embrace the air supplies Is a remedy I've learned to escape my mind This world is a dream Stuck in the seams Bursting into oblivion Into hell fire I am ice Eyes like tumbleweed Staring away into this world you can't see Muddy waters and dandelions This mountain is old And I can hear his wisdom
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Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 4:05 PM UTC
The Wise Old Mountain
If there is ever one day that the stars will align in their disarray I'll cry, hope, and whisper to the ground beneath me To take me under, six feet deep This is the dreaming hour The time when they are out The sweeping voices of river sheets And the creaking of the tree towers Floors of forests call beneath The leaves and pictures like pacing feet Stuck between the lines In my dank dark hole I flicker the fingers Like a flame growing cold This warm embrace the air supplies Is a remedy I've learned to escape my mind This world is a dream Stuck in the seams Bursting into oblivion Into hell fire I am ice Eyes like tumbleweed Staring away into this world you can't see Muddy waters and dandelions This mountain is old And I can hear his wisdom
gavin-ray-davis
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Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 4:05 PM UTC
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