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Dec 2010
Let's go out tonight and in the cold, we'll
Spirit ourselves away until
The sun appears, in little
Nooks and hollowed tree middles.
Let's go out in the dark moonlight
And take these clothes off right
As soon as we step off the edge
Into cold wetness and nearly freeze to death.
The precipice will smudge
When we walk down the sloping blur
To where the water is photoshopped so nicely.
Our throats will no longer be sore
So we will shout some more,
So we will shout some more.

Hopping spritely across the river on rocks
With our hoods on and our knee high socks
We shall transmute into the smallest flock
Of Canada geese.
When's my funeral.
Written by
Clayton Woolery
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