It's always dark in the wee hours, and I keep to myself.
The world goes on whirling and whirling,
nobody sees me dreaming, and I say:
here we are
here we are.
She goes around when nobody's watching,
at this time the neighborhood is often bristling.
Today, it's a quiet dark that spooks her into thinking,
outside her head there is nothing:
nothing at all
nothing at all.
Joratio mumbles about new beginnings,
although he has yet to get his own life, underway.
The caustic overload from the overpass vein reminds him to fix his tv...and he knows the sky is only glass. He says:
here we are
here we are.
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