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Cemetery Shortcut
03:33
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there was October in our young blood then
a sky of idiot grey turning to night
in the frame of imagined branches
songs echoing from graveyard footpaths
and distant orange house-lights dressed
in a corduroy of fine rain
the smoky evening murals of youth
are impossible to see from so close
the moments get dropped in the wet grass
where they fade and wait for years
turning strange and outdated
I hardly recognised you
I always wanted to say but never got the chance;
you were the one who
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