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Rich Furman and Jim Smith
Dead Together
Awoke on the dead couch
Spring was plastic
You sold my lips to happiness
And promised them to alone
The bones shivered in delight
Under the screaming jets
Hope was stolen
Replaced with a bag of sand
A few days to forget to flip through
Collecting silt
She is lily white
Walking through blood stained hands
Soon moving east
New life and old women
She is wearing skin
To cover her bones
The sadness of cells
Programmed for pain
The lights are growing dim
The ground is getting cold
More dead couches sometimes waking alone
With sorrow drowning bodies
You're just a penny and that's a lot
Somewhere
Heal pounding sidewalks before dawn
Past drunks and killers
Just woke up again
Surrounded by indecisive tightrope walkers
Spring had arrived again
Too afraid not to eat
Why love each other
When we could get high
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