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Jens Mar 2015
I'm standing under the eave
the rain turning streets into rivers
I'm waiting for my dam-da-di-dey

I see umbrellas,
plastered in their faces,
people scatter hurriedly,
all looking for their dam-da-di-deys

then you, with hair all soaked, you're running
to this old sack of blood
the taste of cold rain
on your lips
and a dam-da-di-dey
hey

— The End —