Coming from another room
The shadow of a nameless tune
The simple sun is sifting through
The blue smoke from your mouth
The bended chair, the wilted rug
Your stubbled jaw, your pounded blood
Your heavy-lidded eyes look up
To find me hiding at the top of the stairs
Your frozen face, the rigid end
Your parted hair and your paper skin
And furrowed lines like field rows or wakes behind a stone
Collected deeply cut around two eyes I tried to know
And once again I'm looking down
On something I don't really understand

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