103 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
103 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
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$$$$
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$$$$T""P$$$ba, ,gd&P""T&bg. ,gd&P""T&bg.
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ggggggggggg $$$$ $$$$$b d$$$$ $$$$b d$$$$ $$$$$b ggggggggggg
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""""""""""" $$$$ $$$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$bxxP&$$&P """""""""""
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$$$$ $$$$$$ T$$$$ $$$$P T$$$$
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$$$"""""" " """" $$$$$$ "T&$bxxd$&P" "T&$bxx$$$$$' " """"""$$$
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""" """""" """
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ggg "Leaving The Girl" ggg
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$$$ by -> Basehead $$$
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$$$ $$$
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$$$ [ HOE E-Zine #986 -- 12/23/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ] .,$$$
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`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
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your life: that girl. she walked and she talked and she didn't look
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back. green broken bottles and the shadows they cast. cracks in the
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pavement and skinned knees. those eyes caught you like a snag on your
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sweater. you're such a go-getter. squashed roaches underfoot, and you
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said someday you'd leave. but a pale finger said stay, and beckoned you
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back.
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time and busted clocks and cuckoo birds. and a spring in the mattress
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put a spring in your step. but still you'd forget. why did she talk to
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the birds? you tossed and you turned as the city burned. the subway man
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sang the subway song and the subway man was you. but he had a mask. a
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siren at 3am and a gunshot at noon, and you said someday you'd leave.
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but a pale finger strummed a guitar, and beckoned you back.
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the wrong words from the right girl. and so you locked the door. she
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sat on the shore beyond and dried her eyes on a star. the dreamers slept
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and the sinners wept. a phoenix from the ashes before her eyes. sunken
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into your pillow with sunken eyes and you dreamed of sunken cities. a
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red light flickered outside your door, and a black dog buried a secret
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there, and you said someday you'd leave. but a pale finger touched a
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star, and beckoned you back.
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a cracking mast and a broken bone. holes in your pockets where the
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sunbeams shone. a handprint on the crooked mirror. and there's no one
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there. a tinted car with a trunk of flesh, a beast of burden for you to
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catch. she buzzed around your head. and urged you on. emerald eyes
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with hidden truths, and a camera eye's unbroken gaze, and you said
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someday you'd leave. but a pale finger touched your lips, and beckoned
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you back.
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distant thunder and echoing waves. the dark was the cloak of a
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clouded night. stiff in bed like a gnarled tree. and her lips touched
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yours as she took the key. cold blue shale on dented glass. train
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whistles and smoky haze and the perfume of a downtown night. you'd meet
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her on the isle before soon. you always were one to follow, weren't you?
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the rusty grates and the putrid stench. that was your promise. when you
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cleansed your hands, you cleansed your soul, and that's what you told
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yourself. a swift step and a new silver watch, and you took your window
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seat. wire-frame landscapes of wilted steel and sick yellow lights. lit
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your way, lit her way, lit the way home. and the landscape changed.
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bloodshot eyes on the red-eye flight, and you said someday you'd leave.
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but a pale finger stirred a drink, and beckoned you back.
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the sun nearly hurt. no cares in the world, and a blue-green hue of a
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virgin sea. dark men in pressed suits, and a spot at the governor's
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table. the powder white of her skin and the white powder in her hands,
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and the world was yours. bent telephone poles and sugar cane plantations.
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roads that end at barbed wire fences. negro boys with torn shirts and
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torn smiles, and the money in their pockets isn't theirs. the dim clubs
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and the thick smoke. the man with the cigar spoke money and powder. and
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there was fire in his eyes. you couldn't take the small talk. and so she
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made it. but you went for some air and found a dead man there, and the
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earth spun around you. you awoke in the midnight hour, down the crooked
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clay street, in bed in your tower of glass. outside the children robbed,
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and the palm trees swayed, and you said someday you'd leave. but a pale
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finger touched your shoulder, and beckoned you back.
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back in flight like an iron bird, with your life in tow. and her life
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too. the men in the subway all worn down and leather-faced. a scowl at
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your tan, and a puff of condensation. one squeal of the door, and life
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began again. a chinese man selling wisdom to the ignorant (or curious),
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and a fruit cart in it's usual place. around the last corner, orange
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cones and yellow tape and some unused chalk. no use for the chalk. so
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life began again. but it was the beginning of the end. sleep came in a
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fit of fear, and an acid tongue lapped at your ear, and you said someday
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you'd leave. but a pale finger flipped off the light, and beckoned you
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back.
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disoriented, and deluded. you always were the paranoid one. she said
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life went on. and she was half right. a siren was a war cry. the negro
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boys were devils (weren't they just jumping rope). she kept the
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photographs where you'd never find them, you thought. and then you
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remembered. the man with the cigars stared straight through you, and he
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took your soul for spite. on the isle, you signed on the line with a
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shaky hand. so what else is there to say? the rain poured down loud and
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the wind made hollow sounds out of each crack and hole. the subway man
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sang the subway song and the subway man was you, but he wore a mask, and
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you dared not peek. 'what shall pass, shall pass,' he sang, and the mask
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wore a grin. the green pale shadow of a glass bottle end and a horrible
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swipe. a red-orange flash as the phoenix fell. the red light flickered
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out, and the black dog sniffed the air, his secret safe. somewhere
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across the sea , a new cigar was lit, and small talk made. men played
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cards, women wept, children played, and you said someday you'd leave. but
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a lifeless finger, curled and still, beckoned you back.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #986, BY BASEHEAD - 12/23/99 ]
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