in a fire and brimstone sermon
in soft silence
The antlered angel
pointing out the dualistic assumptions
the wind whispering in the black Sun
We are the living water
when we sing, caress with care,
playful, thankful
the wonder of it all
The wine fantastic when you smile
about so many words.
Most of the time this kind of lovers
are locked behind the disgusting intoxication
of the madhouse.
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