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Echoes

I send my dreams up to the shoulders of the sky far gone
and watch them go up to where they belong.
I thought I saw something fall like a refugee, but hey--
there’s trash alive everywhere anyway.
I was wrong about reality, so I watched TV 
to remind myself what it is I need to believe.

I gave what I wanted to receive. 
I kept what I wanted to leave.

And I can still hear echoes climbing in my head.
But I don’t like leaving the rest up to chance.
I’m making up for what I can fix,
making up what I can’t.

The way you move is like a love song’s sore, 
but no one really believes that kind of thing anymore
(I could never find the words, so I made it up.)
Something’s sleeping inside, and all dreams are dreams of awakening.
Slide in just to push me to an eternity of reckoning.
Longevity is just reckoning, and crying, and entering something else.

I gave what I needed for myself
I kept what I know I should have left.

And I can still hear echoes climbing in my head.
But I don’t like leaving the rest up to chance.
I’m making up for what I can fix,
making up what I can’t.

This, too, will pass with interest.  Now I want something I’ve never seen.
Everything is echoes, reflections in different lights that remind several times 
what you need to see. I just want something I’ve never seen. I give what I should keep. I still wear what I don’t need. And I can still hear echoes climbing in my head. But I don’t like leaving the rest up to chance. I’m making up for what I can fix, making up what I can’t. Eve