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.: Tuesday, March 09, 2004 :.
From the tip of my brain:
clear as smoke in a bottle, no matter which way you look, from every view your crippled, that sight a blinding crook.
Its the short versus I like the most, the stuff I don't think to write, the stuff that just kind of comes out of me before I realize whats happening. As soon as I try to write something, it usually turns into crap. I don't know that anything I've written is good, but when it pops into my head several months, or even years after I wrote it, I wonder.
Sometimes its not even the whole verse that stays with me, just particular lines that I can't seem to rid my head of. Its a good feeling.
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