Commission Into Tweed
The Harlequins of the night
languish their last aura
Lilly eyed clowns await
commissioners bleed into tweed
Rivillers errantly play drums
Damsels failing in their appeal
Adventurers sent back
Running on empty
the night people slide in between
Those old sinners head for the valleys
backing their wasted years
No prayers are said, just the orbital of silence
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