I heard it coming from a southern belle,
Her spring face suddenly turned so pale.
The temporary unique felt free in her hands
Touching the past with overcast jazz.
Your conscious responses are all out of sync
You're flushed in your cheeks
From the leaks in your head.
These fluid thoughts
Are cooled and stopped,
Solidified in state.
The weekend comes a little early
And in its cradling arms, you're safe.
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