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Sparrows
the moon is on the ivy
the sky is dark with sparrows
they fall upon the thistle
they paint the town like red tipped bristles
every building here is boarded
the sidewalk split the gas pumps broken
this world is ladybirds and mayflies
the flowers here grow waist high
like the Aurora Borealis
like the Gospel of Saint Thomas
these weeds grow upon us
upon us
if this town burns to cinders
soon our brittle hearts will follow
to be carried by the dry wind
to play within the tumbling of the swallows
like the Aurora Borealis
like the Gospel of Saint Thomas
these weeds grow upon us
upon us
like the Aurora Borealis
like the Gospel of Saint Thomas
these weeds grow upon us
upon us
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