Bury The Record

Blackbird Raum

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    A contagion, bury the record
    That’s the year the plague swept in, bury the record
    The cloud of the stench, of the carcass, of the summer heat
    I can explain so much
    Only so much
    This is why I’m here, to impress
    Impress in you the need for all these things
    Don’t make that face at me
    Remove this sourpuss glaze from your countenance
    Buried in the sky or in the earth, face down or standing
    Life is one force, grossly changing, cold eclipsing
    This year’s murdering ground is the soil of future lives

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