just a nightmare of being lost/trapped in caves -
echos of the grave and of prison cells and again
of growing old.
R. Smith, cure news Number 8
smith/gallup/tolhurst
I never thought that I would find myself
In bed amongst the stones
The columns are all men
Begging to crush me
No shapes sail on the dark deep lakes
And no flags wave me home
In the caves
All cats are grey
In the caves
The textures coat my skin
In the death cell
A single note
Rings on and on and on
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