The mountain gives up its dead
as the old sea gives up its dead
As the new street lamps come on
the music started you kissed me
The shooting galleries opened
the clowns still walked on stilts
The rides begin to scream
once I was twelve years old
I lean towards the message
someone I believe is waiting
Nearby the streets are shining
on other screens other dreams
Now I've got to go goodnight
and if I should die before I wake
And if the birds sing all the night
and my wary eyes see no threats
I pray the Lord my soul to take
dashing out into the just light
A few debts from perfection
the world that struck me was good.
© 2016 Rob Schackne
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