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May 2013
Iā€™m not an unending memory
Or a slow collapse of the words you have given me
To drown in
My head spins in a suspension of blurs and surrounding voices which only
Appear in short flashes
The flight of my shadow turns into a cage left open
I heard your whispers
And they landed on my hands bleeding
Colder than old lies
Written by
Moe  M/earth
   Randal Webb and Molly
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