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The Ninth Wave
Beyond these foothills lies a womb ready to feast
It’s within these tenements my soul is young and at ease
I see my dancing reflection in still water at my feet
I bloom and blossom in some strange and narrow path
Composed of concrete and madness, broken to my back
It’s easy to conquer before these hills are reached
I prayed for some salvation
The hills turned and laughed
They know all too much I’m a man forever trapped
Eat the flowers, gently
You mustn’t wake the pack
They know all too much, a zebra without the black
A dancer in the window calls my name in stride
I wonder if I would be cast, shunned, removed of light
I laugh so loudly within myself, it all begins to crack
I can’t bother to hide the man I’ll always lack
For I’m minutes older, minutes beyond the hills
Absorbed is the mantra of a precious man I knew
He gave me hope and knowledge, a figure to hold up too
He told me, “Kid, you’ve got to burn your back”
“In these foothills lie the men who surely lack”
So I ran up
In a worried haze
In an aimless daze
Where I could see no more fire
So I opened up
With a sullen grin
With a bewildered win
Where I could see no more fire
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