All My Shoes Have Mysteriously Disappeared
Her circle has no beginning
the veil so easily seen through
i'm not mad can't you see them too
brave enough to be herself
all the lost things
come back in some form
seeing sleeps where death has come
different can be strange
my brains gone fuzzy
could be a Wrackspurt about
leaves us Blibbering
like a Humdinger
Loving the good moon
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