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- Imagine -
An late ebony night with trembling notes
gurgling sounds from moist throats
Where pickled cucumbers shrink in a jar
a lost night, no glow of heaven's stars
A multitude of creepy and muttering ghosts
haunts houses and churches to find their hosts
With rubber muscles and warty feet
imagine crawling down the cobblestone street
Whether you come or you leave, death smells close
Do not feel guilty it was just your time I suppose
Their shadows, with the evil hand of chance
never be tempted to join the dance
Copyright ©
Anne-Lise Andresen
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