The block

chris (2002-10-15 08:34:38)
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We've left it too long.
It's doing my head in.
And while you smile
My style is stifled.
This speaker's distorting, you know
But we chatter.
A gaggle of geese.
My words are rifled.

Flocks behind
A hedge in rain.
Snooker ball tap,
We do it don't we?
You do it to me and
Lead me on.
Mare to water, or
Cattle to slaughter?

Again it's late
And we tennis
Our thoughts.
There's sugar in my coffee,
My cigarette's lit.
There's a verse in my purse.
And my bow's on the strings.
But still I can't play it.
I still can't say it.

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