A world on its own
much like those who inhabit,
like those who have died;
much like those who dove face first
in the barred hall
and left their stained crosses
at the altar,
a blind sacrifice
to an unseeing god;
much like those who fought
tooth and nail,
had a mean left
but never the right,
never the tearful initiation
and acceptance;
much like those who died,
ever trapped in striped existence:
a world on its own.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Exile ft. Slum Village, Time Has Come
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