i am driving while you speak of arsonists, war veterans,
and eating snake meat - i am driving slowly and thinking
slowly and my heart is beating slowly - we can hear the shouts
of kids playing soccer in the schoolyard through the window.

something like the sky is on fire, but soon enough the sun
will set ('cause it's lonesome for the moon) and soon enough we'll
escape the daylight and mend our troubled flesh at midnight
until we are born again - two children laughing out of breath.

right now, though, the sirens are sirens sounding and the birds
with broken wings sing while they walk slowly over pavement
it is so hard to rise up; it is so hard rise up

but whatever happens next will be born anyway: through
the wires or through our veins, fatherless, bright eyed, the best -
we don't need to understand to stay and swallow its sweet song.

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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