Homeless and penniless, we walk the roads of the city,
searching for something to hide away for the winter,
But there is nothing to hold the figurines of the last party’s
endless endgame together, as the knight jumps,
And the pawns arise in darkness to hide the ways of the last
covenant of an arch drenched in loneliness,
Without a hint of light to illuminate the board, only
endless nighttime and pernicious journeys to the back of the throat, where we
have secluded the winter to be here for all, rich or poor, we have done this,
time and time again, the lowly influencing the upper tiers, bound in Unisom to
sleep away the dried tears.
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