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Apr 2014
Eyes closed, the radio on
Water beading down your windshield
The drums breath gone

Cruel guitars orchestrate the rise and fall
Your mother wished you never left at all
With the dryer still running, power out
The last lights in the mind go blind

Colour returns, piano beats on
Cradles rocking and cellos burn
Not a sound to be heard, only the wipers remain on
Adam Mott
Written by
Adam Mott  Bright Falls
(Bright Falls)   
424
 
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