Rays and shadows
People then pass without knowing the jug of water
The first cold winter
The amount of chicken blood staged on the beaten ground
Leaves fall, heartless magpies kill for pleasure
Skeletons walk
Feelings are phoenixes
Sensations all around
Castles burning down
Too many ghosts in your hand and feet on the sand
Best player in town
You twisted my hand
Not once
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| Mircea Cantor |
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