When words are things I cannot feel or see,
And "I cannot read inside of me",
Or begin to describe the message my feelings send,
"I push my lungs up and pretend,
"I push my lungs up and pretend,
I pretend to be fire at them."
This master-work of yours, This magnum opus, This poiema, Is sat in his underpants In a neglected and untidy flat, Typing on a laptop he bou...
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