Dice In Coffins
Left in this coffin shivering
Remembering cotton around rusted scissors
Nesting in a lemon--a moth, how strange
Thunder sliced into my dream--teeth turned to dirt
See all the money burning like coal in a fire, even through all this fog
Feel an itch inside my finger; should open an umbrella under my skin
A hand on the dock plaged with disease
Lead fell from the corpse's mouth as it was her time to roll the dice
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