The flowers of a night faded symphony of strangers
As they leave the half filled torium
Of singers and thieves and the lye and cheats
The clouds move fast as a storm approaches
Unknown its force and will
Its decision to pass or take
Its winds will destroy or break
The storm house is well on its way
With the old onions and potatoes
Sit with the scorpions and spiders
They wonder why your there
Its the same night as before to them.
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