The way that we seek to be
The water in the sea,
All and everything we thought
The other so wanted to see,
Knowing it will drip apart,
A wet newspaper heart,
Filled with homeless dreams and wooden rot,
Mingling in sacred shapes o’art,
Strange, for all to love ideas.
And we make ourselves that,
But we are the undying freedom.
Let’s not forget to love for that.
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