waves bathed down like cascades
of music and feathers
smoked like classical
alcoholic homosexuals
who will wake up in the morning
look over and not
remember your name or
the door to get up
the door to walk out for
the door that always opens
into the brightest day.
back to the home you cannot go
The flames that lick from down below
the faces that love you
and the faces that leave you
But they all tried to tell ya
even shadows cast
In sunny California
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