‘the times they are a-changing’, 

being against the wind. 

I can fly…i can fly…i can fly over the ashes of a child’s bones. 

My numb black hole, clapping on a black man kissing a white’s burning lips. 

I see a luscious world without the burden of a father’s God. 

And babe you will be the last life of this earth to sense that eternal gravity. 

My city would forget the smell of biased sweats. 

The last symphony would travel through the unrequited space. 

See, all these can be a comical hallucination, 

but I am no lunatic, ….and…

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