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Jun 4
Maybe I’m already dead
Maybe I’m living with death
Everything breaks down then works out
Maybe I’m exchanged with Ying and Yang
Guess I’ll find out

I browse through a book shelf
I pick up on the words and dialect
I put it down for I collect paragraphs
For different subjects
I never judge by the cover
But this albums artwork speaks volumes
The cashier hands over my change
I walk through these bright exit doors
The sunlight hits my eyes as they constrict
They get fixed on a man with open hands

His jaundice eyes plead
But money is not his need
He's visiting in town
He stems from Alabama
His boots planted in my city
With a dead flip phone
With no way to his a-wayward home
As he describes a street I’m not familiar with
He walks against me
He gets on his hands and knees
As he is now actually pleading
I say I will

Maybe I’m already dead
Maybe I’m living with death
Everything breaks down then works out
Maybe I’m exchanged with Ying and Yang
Guess I’ll find out
Snipes
Written by
Snipes  Waterbury
(Waterbury)   
538
 
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