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originally posted in:Writers Corner
9/18/2013 11:12:04 PM
0

The Frog, The Rabbit, and The Fox

It was a chilly summer, 1905, Me and you were searchin' for ways, to feel alive, Chasin' butterflies through the cracked lookin' glass, Huntin' ghostly white stags down deserted railroad tracks, And through spectral forests and over your glassy eyes, Lookin' for childish ways to feel alive, So when you marry, don't wait on me, And you better marry, a railroad man, Cause everyday is a sunday dollar, In your pale hands, now, [instrumental] So I'll lay here naked and bruised, in tall emerald grass, Blurred and dazed as your spirit runs on past, And you'll wave me bye, and I'll move my mouth, But you cut out my tongue, just to spite my face, As you felt for the grace of the, sky above, Down the rabbits den, and on the wings of a dove, Through the frogs eyes, and may I be chasin', a white fox, So when you marry, don't wait on me, And your better marry, a railroad man, Cause everyday gonna be a sunday dollar, In your cold hands, I [instrumental] March, to the serenity of blistered drums, March, to fields of green and spring long gone, March, over the trenches painted in mud and mothers blood, March, March, o'er the hills of red snow, March, through the forests of a hallowed valleys end, March, in the city where our children sleep, lifeless in their ivory sheets,

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