| Barren rocks and sand, our wooden sculpture hands,
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| Held like a timber hitch, held candles to the sun
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| Both faint and fading fast, we walked on, windward
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| Kept time with a pocketmouse, mouths kept mostly shut
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| Thought broke the silence like a bone
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| FOX: «you've worn me like an albatross,
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| I’ve only slowed you down.
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| You could’ve long traded in your braided crown by now
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| You could’ve found that Anabaptist girl you always used to go on about
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| As we rode in circles on our bicycles;
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| We walked on balance beams
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| The audience cheered for us We burned like fevers under carriage hats
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| Hid behind Venetian masks
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| In our human costumes
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| We stood like statues once in shepherd’s check
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| We’ll both be decked in herringbone,
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| Wrapped border drab around already broken ironstone"
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| BEAR: «But I’ve seen these cliffs before,
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| St. Agnes brought her palm branch to the hospital
|
| Looked upward lest the charm had fled
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| From my brother’s breathing bed
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| And when he died I shut his dogtooth violet eyes:
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| He looked just like me Climb on down and see
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| They laid him on the rocks below
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| There’ll be enough to fill your cup for days;
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| I’ll stay up here and rest.
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| We’ll fly in straight lines as from carronades
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| We’ll crash like tidal waves, decimate the islands
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| As our hollowed lumber falls like water, ends where I start
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| In that tattered rag shop back in Asbury Park
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| Look how soon my hands won’t move
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| But if you’ll improve, we’ll all improve
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| Sixty feet and my feet won’t move
|
| But if you’ll improve, we’ll all improve
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| Forty feet, my legs won’t move
|
| But as you improve, we all improve
|
| Fill our den with acorn mast,
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| I’ll wake before the salmon pass
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| Ten foot more and nothing moves" |