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inanimate praise

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inanimate praise

cold has no time,  motion has no voice
 and it has been so long since the stones
 cried out in the open fields.  hardened 
 still cold stones whose only reflection is
  to bruise all flesh.

  graveyard vulgar granite lips have little faith.

  so the eulogy goes something like this. 

 he was always such a good drunk
 when empty bottles around him went clunk.

 happy as piss in a jar that is a wishin
 some raise a bottle others just miss him.


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