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Slow Decay

Spanish Prisoners

When you're not here, i go down to the water
I bury my hands, i keep looking for something else
The specifics fade, when dawns cloak unravels
There's nothing real in such a slow decay

(a slow decay)

Something else, something else
(every line, a broken cadence
Every line, a rearrangement)

Everything i write is a letter to the future
To someone who knows just where these words were kept.

Else, else, something else
Else, else, something else