Parking Lot

Answer me or call it off
'Cause sleep is way too often lost
It's not a wave or rush of blood
So cuff it first and break the flood

I can't even remember why
The pages turn from one to nigh
It's secondhand delirium
And a hazy memory to hunt

Rabbits aren't in my name
But they grasp the shell of the month of rain
My spirit shrieks for what it wants
A second chance in a parking lot



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