We had a civil war marriage.
Now here they all talk as if they wanted to cry...
That’s the great idea about colonialism:
When you have to breathe, a lamp descends from the ceiling,
(Just before the show.)
This is your map for being exposed and trapped
however trite and unusable it may be.
This is a script for the lists of music.
This is a design for camping before the snow.
Now if you held me
memories would be (just) yellow crumbling tape...