If you dream for too long
beneath the forest of windows
Reflection is the only future
In the museum that possesed
All of intelligent thought
There were only ghosts
And echoes of memories
In the dead of the rain
At the heat of the night
I spoke with fractal ghosts
All that they said
Was all that had passed
I have wondered how to
Resussitate the beat
I thrashed at ideas
That were cardiac dead
I tossed and turned
Every notion I knew
Phantoms of meltdown
Just chuckled in line
Like novice nuns
They knew better
Thay had it locked
If you live dishevelled
In the heart of revolution
No longer will you beat
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