The commas in our fingertips belie
the foggy other-thans that fly
Like seagulls round the weddings in my mind

with rice enough for everyone, but not the strength to die

And if every soul you meet tells the truth,
why even ask them?
why don't you ask them?

And if every drunken prophet speaks the truth,
why even listen?
why won't you listen?

In the love you find, you're nervous all the time.

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