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To Hear Not There MAG
Melodic beats enthrall the ears, painted visionaries,
Water and pebbles,
Taking over the cadaver, perspiring through your personal being,
Becoming the rhythm, addictively,
Dancing, fluttering away, grooving hastily,
And abundant smiles,
Swaying, pulsing, moving,
Your torso is the source, within my bones, I feel it,
The body is the verse, perfected studio recording,
Sound eats me whole, my sight colorfully enhanced with notes,
Blazing skull of symbols, skin arousal upon the vinyl wheel,
Strangely overwhelming, gracefully listless,
Aesthetically pleased and remote, amusing sanity,
The heart pumps to the pitch; my mind delicately lush,
Turn it up; drown the strain of reality, the unruly,
Louder and louder, intensifying the ancient empty streets,
Sanction the motion of legendary adventures, Highway 112,
Come with me, in my car
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