Playlists
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Cold Winter's Love
I can taste the tin of the sky --- the real tin thing. Winter dawn is the color of metal, The trees stiffen into place like burnt nerves. All night I have dreamed of destruction, annihilations --- An assembly-line of cut throats, and you and I Inching off in the gray Chevrolet, drinking the green Poison of stilled lawns, the little clapboard gravestones, Noiseless, on rubber wheels, on the way to the sea resort.
291 tracks