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UCHE NDUKA
Swear
swear they did steal us from our presumed solace.
oh, if we only had time to stop Nick Cave and his Murder Ballads.
if we had time only to rebuff the call of fluted pain...
ripped off? those stars in the acoustic skin of the night?
oh, no, they didn't feel so.
we knew the art of breaking codes, knew its high voltage, cheered incensed colours.
unbreakable were we, folded-atypically-in crossbeams.
click.
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