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Jan 2015
It’s no field of daisies
This walk up those stairs
Sad banners flapping
This garden of dreams

I can see those assembled
Exchange their quick glances
As the band dies down
And the snickers fade out

They all know what’s coming
They’ve gathered to see
A neck yanked at noon

And this time it’s me
Timothy David Jones
Written by
Timothy David Jones  Mexico
(Mexico)   
738
   JWolfeB
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