Wednesday, April 28, 2010

When We Collide, It'll Mean More.

We're forever floating.
Above cities and friends,
burn-outs and the car crashes.
We reside in altitudes.
We hide out in sheep.

We'll never know
and neither will you.

We die to fall,
hit a surface,
scrape our knees,
brush it off,
and go to work.

We'll start with the grass.

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