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So in the night
when the angels cry
and the surface of a lake
talks gibberish to you
you get lost
you turned out wrong
you've got a gun
the final mystique of you
the world isn't spinning anymore
the lake
the dock
the shore
all, tearing at your soul
feeling, like a ton of hay
no more farms boy.
now it's a killing machine-
a bad killing machine.

and they fight with their guns
and they weren't scared,
anymore;
they died a thousand times.

So when the sun comes up
and the sirens stop
the surface of the lake is gone
the help isn't needed
the world must be spinning
the gun wasn't real
the skin was just around you
the dock
the anchor


------
Lee Leslie can be found @ myspace.com/expressionsession and Leo.altpro.net


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by LeeLeslie





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