Even Eden Burns

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Home is a long passage through streets
Until coarse wet-pavement hallways
Trail off into stained carpets
The city-light corona of dark clouds

Fades into mildew, chipped yellow plaster-
Now you may shed leather and linen,
Chisel off your mask and wait to sleep,

Dream the world can halt-
Somehow you will not be pinched
Between well-oiled gears

Time enough to smoke another cigarette
See, it's not about love anymore
It's God - the crushing weight of people
Turn on the television, it gets worse

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