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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Dregs & Other Unreadables

No angels here


The mountains, the valleys, the soft sweet haiku
the rivers the cool ponds, the hard kisses from you
the old paths, the highways, the song in my soul
new fires, and ashes, tempests beyond my control
swing with me, darling
swing with me dear!
Sing to the heavens
so the angels can hear!
The long days, out working, the calloused scarred hands
The short nights, left sleeping, dreams I can't understand
the old paths, the right ways, the song in my heart
new words, and tunes, now how does that start?
hold me, my darling
hold me, my dear!
Sing as though angels
were all dancing near!
The real truth, the kind lies, the things we all say
the sonnets, the freeverse, all the Gods in our way
the old paths, the true loves, the hopes we don't know
the green wood, and dead wood, and red wood fire's aglow
kill me, my darling
Kill me, my dear!
Sing our love truly
slay the angels right here
dance with me, darling
dance with me dear!
Sing to dead heavens
there's no angels near
Sing to me darling
There's no angels here.
Just kill me my darling
There's no angels here.
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