MY BOOKS GENTLY DECAY OVER THE RAIN OF TIME
My thoughts leave home and become clouds
My dandruff flakes off and falls pale white
My cat gets old and slow
My emotions return on a slow burn
My habits forget who they are
My friends accept these eccentric rhymes
It is hard to know who you are.
They say each night le petite morte
They say each day is Groundhog
Perhaps there is a Spirit Almanac
Whereby all experiences are recycled
Have you ever felt some deja vu?
Have you ever felt some deja vu?
Where every thing is familiar..
Perhaps there really is nothing new
And matter does not really matter
Each breath may be a little death
Every poison has its antidote
If living forever is all it takes
This morning is all i can give.
All we can do is to live.
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