| Don’t break too many hearts.
|
| Don’t take too many arrows in the chest.
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| Cry comfortably, let us all know what you’re thinking.
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| Is there a gesture I could use to clearly express
|
| I’m at an utter loss for words?
|
| Is there a part of you that’s torn? |
| That’s larger than life?
|
| That’ll hold on for one more night?
|
| I’ve got a speech to make.
|
| Followed by a big parade.
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| Northside. |
| Closed eyes.
|
| All charades go on forever.
|
| Hands tied with fool’s pride.
|
| In a slowly fleeing summer.
|
| Just throw your hands up at the sky.
|
| No use trying to explain this.
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| The clouds are mirrors. |
| I’m disguised.
|
| I’m not all that entertaining.
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| The city looks the same
|
| Until you notice smaller changes.
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| It still knows us all by name.
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| It holds us close to its heart
|
| It holds us close to its heart
|
| All my hopes are unaligned.
|
| This diagnosis is self-designed.
|
| Northside. |
| Dead eyes.
|
| All charades go on forever.
|
| Hands tied with past lives.
|
| In a slowly fleeing summer.
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| Empty rooms don’t have pictures to talk to.
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| Brick wall views demand uninspired afternoons.
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| The days are flooding into months.
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| The nights are staring into centuries.
|
| I’ve got some older pictures
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| Of people I see once every couple years.
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| Intrigued or unamazed.
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| «You were so much different back in those days.»
|
| And now this smile has a bitter curve.
|
| Now these eyes are unenchanted.
|
| And all we see is a faded image of what we used to be.
|
| How can we relate
|
| When we don’t know a thing about each other anymore?
|
| When we don’t know a thing about each other anymore?
|
| When we don’t know a thing about each other anymore?
|
| When we don’t know each other anymore?
|
| Is there a gesture I could use to clearly express
|
| I’m at an utter loss for words. |