
No longer harbour To escapist design I propose an exit strategy Could you let it go? A simple loss of traction On an empty road More than likely sleeping at the wheel And then again In it’s current condition Sustainded disrepair I’d say this house is falling down Ripe for torching, then A single cigarette falls From a sleeping hand And softly, softly, softly I will slip away And fade until I assume complete transparency Softly, softly, softly I will slip away And then into the ether where I belong
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