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from my manufactured home
of comfort, warmth
step into a land of crying beauty
i crush them as their sparkling cries
reflect to mine eyes
their song of death reaches me in beauty...
and as i walk
mechanical sun
casting shadow
killing voices
making those around shine brighter
growing longer
growing feinter
then the original song continues...
drawing closer, looking across the expanwe
tens of thousands of voices call out to me
their beautiful, dainty roar
i cannot help but feel sad...
even in a corrupted state they reach...
and to the manufactured cage
with walls and floor of stone
you left your voices ringing in my being
your image burnt into my mind
your self left in dying states...
and as you melt from my hair
you collect in the form of a tear...


jazz band series...
2 out of a few...