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This aftermoon.
I'll hide my heart In giddy laughter
and keep it far from wailers
when why's are seeking their answer
I'll inch with a tape like all tailors
I laugh and sing and hide in a song
Oh woman of a jacket smells like peach
lonely lonely
as an empty bench on an empty beach
my wrinkled hands around my face
lonely lonely
as wooden words around a space
too hard to fill, to hard to delete
lonely lonely
I see you leaving on my feet
waiting for nothing in the aftermoon
lonely lonely
seeing nothing but the yester noon
oh woman of a hair smells like mine
smells like madness only
we were the prayers and the shrine
I feel so lonely

— The End —