City II

The rust is a reducer the paint's a pair
I brush the claws of the myrtle caught in the back of your hair
I used to be taken
By the sensation of all the edges that we
Could feel but never join
So we take a trip to Dakabin and we drive back again
My parochial eyes cut a slice of the Australian Dream
We take the Deagon deviation
(a test in patience)
O tempora o mores you say
(I think we'll be ok)
Its no surprise that I'm raking through brakelights
And the city is gone
I used to rely on the patterns and the gridlines
Now the city is gone
Will you still need me each time the city is gone?
History repeats and shit becomes champagne
Before too long
I was a twentytwenty visionary for so long
But now i can't see over the walls that the writing is on
So I'll tie up my sins in my
Thinwhiteskin and get gone
But there's a holy understanding
Am i standing by or holding on?



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