Shadow pugilist
June of 44
You will never know
How I let you slip through my...
Maybe it will come to blows
There's nothing to understand.
How I let you slip through my...
Maybe it will come to blows
There's nothing to understand.
All the time you drift along
Too high, too afraid to come down
Shadow riding, you fall
The elongated light makes you topple down
The transistor radio
A makeshift bookshelf
A photograph of a girl buried in sand
Up to the neck, wearing sunglasses,
Smiling
You whisk yourself away in a cab down broadway
The cab went round a corner
Each step from the kerb
Unmeasurable by a sextant
The face of a constellation
Connecting the dots with lines
To make your memory
All the time you drift along
Too high, too afraid to come down
Shadow riding, you fall
The elongated light makes you topple down.
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