The street lights look like candles from where I am perched on this ledge. I am a flightless bird. The city's ash; the moon's stained red. They beg, they bribe, and they plead, “Good God, just take the life out of me!” Death is in high demand. They hear, but cannot seem to listen. Lua pulls the tide out from the surf to the sea. Sun sets for sunrise ex terra. My son who’s brother was next; old soul, new eyes, now locked on my nest. Life is in black in white; the living colors of the night. Speak but yet do so in code. Speak up. Pulsing and I see and ode. The stars sing to me at night, “Master when is the fight?” When will the trees meet Zion? Where we dwell in peace. Arms reach for the skies. Roots hold them down; first, they must die. Death is love. Sing with me! Ah, ah! Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah! Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah! My reign has been put on pause. Five years later, they still see through straws. We seek what we find, but we don’t find what we seek. In three years, we will fly in, blow horns and sings sounds, draw swords and tear limbs; soar through the clouds, thinking out loud. Ah, ah! Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah! Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!
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