The Blues

The Blues

For some
It’s just a gold dab bloom
Or it could be a horseshoe
Hanging over the moon
Or it could be a tooth fairy
Coming in to announce a gilded
Dawn
Or it could be the pure light within you
To guide your way home
An immaculate conception
An unrequited self deception
Space being infinitely small
Where the timeless dare to loom
Glory glory hallelujah
Oh say how can we see
The absence of light
As light
Nothing up my sleeve

It could be a rebellion
Or a misguided clue
For the truth that we’re demanding
Doesn’t say nothing new
As the love that we’ve abandoned
Must
Needs
Requires

The blues

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