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with long hind legs for jumping
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They say time goes backward
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waiting to be driven forth. I pound
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like a horse held in the palm of a rock,
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untransfigured even by hope. Understand I was the one
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And thus, without a Wing
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“these had transmuted
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It is true I am as twisted as the cactus
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Some kind of extra firmament,
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Flesh of the sky, child of the sky, the mind