stood on a black bay,
edges of the boats at night.
something like atmosphere
running in and out of these fingers,
reading about magic,
reading about wizards and their doubts,
it is all so heavily scented.
distant twinkling lights bang
on a dark moving ceiling.
he ran in and out of these fingers,
and into the water somewhere
while our ship sails on.
just keep talking to me, i like these tones.
i want to write you down,
and to keep you in my pockets...
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