"> (Language is a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, when all the time we long to move the stars to pity. - Gustave Flaubert)
I can't rap
and I can rhyme
but I write in my own way
and I'll listen when your certain
what it is you want to say
give me an image that brings truth crawling in from all corners
give me a slice of your guts teased into a song
kill your babies
and leave that one line
that pulsates with meaning
that would move the stars to pity
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