Is it me stepping back into lust
Me being dragged out the lost dust of lungs
The gust of being young
Birds of never sung never even tried to be wrong
Feathery weaver telling lies about the skies
Rhythm rhyming with sliver lining
Lips posing for kisses
Sliver lying
Of flickers of wishes for floors or whores
Of the mind
Get out there you tripper
Get our where the zipper promises a
whiffer of belief
I'm dancing alright
I'm keeping it tight
To my body of late age fright.
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