2 tracks by Wickedjohnandthedevil
Spinning like the wheel
Painted on the temple
Does the wheel turn slowly
Or is it me that moves?
I can count the hours
And I can name the prophets
Kept like silver spoons
Struck like wooden matches
Should I call it sleep or divine…
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Everyone is writing songs inside their heads
Waking up from sleeping in their unmade beds
I cleared out space in springtime to make room for the fall
I wrote you words of kindness, but I won’t speak them at all
The kudzu choked the hillside…
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