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A hounds-tooth coat, pockets are bulging with Nebutal bought from some doctor |
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Who also was bought to keep those pockets full |
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The face was lost, partly recovered, I'm half asleep, half in a frenzy |
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One side tries to smile enough for two |
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Pictures remain, split at the image |
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Cupboards well-stocked with things to diminish |
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The pain that comes with clarity |
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And mirrors in well-lit rooms |
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She checks in at dwindling daylight, a week up front, asks not to be bothered |
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The registry will show her mother's name |
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Locks the door, sits on the bed just a minute before she picks her purse up |
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From the floor, she's pulling out what she needs |
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Warming her wrists in promising water |
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Somebody's love, another one's daughter |
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Readies herself |
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Apologizing to the motel maids |
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Double edged and super blue, vertically letting the life from you |
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Casting a new darkness through the room |
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Angels lay their odds on you, know not quite what they should do |
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Only that they can't quite tear themselves from the view |