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    Monday, April 26, 2010

    Lock me up in that little wooden house
    So that my soul can sink into the floorboards
    And watch over you when I’m not there
    Find me between matrreses and mahogany
    Sparking lights fall and the hollow of the guitar sound
    A resounding hum
    Like my head on your chest where gravity pulls me futher into the dark
    Wear my grooves thin like the records you play over and over
    I don’t mind
    Spinning around and round on turntables like emeralds in my mind
    Taking down everything around us so the scales don’t tip
    It seems too right so everything else must look wrong to compensate

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