Saturday, July 05, 2008

Dragon Dance


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We are all ghosts. 




We have yet to figure it out.







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Walking around, we think we're never going to leave this place. 



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It's always been ours to do with.




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Where are they all, those who have gone before us?



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They are in the restless murmuring of the grasses and the hiss and wash of the sea.




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We are like unto the dead ourselves. 




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Busy at who knows what.




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There's nothing for it:




we're all for the boneyard.



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