The submarine rusts like a sun
Like the sound of dead silence
And our words pile on the sea
As lexical sounds of lived time
And we make our holes in time
The sounds of words in a night
The clatter from our keyboard
As crows wake another dawn.
The submarine rusts like a sun
Like the sound of dead silence
And our words pile on the sea
As lexical sounds of lived time
And we make our holes in time
The sounds of words in a night
The clatter from our keyboard
As crows wake another dawn.
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