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Amaretto Pipe Tobacco
The imitation silk sky glimmers tonight
 I am stuck in this city, surrounded by spite
 There are rumors of a long gone blistering light
 But I know a myth when I see one
  
 Smoke swirls bring beauty to the stable air
 If this is a Kingdom, I'm Calamity's heir
 Nearly a decade can't convince me to care
 Streets pretty like raw film in sun
  
 My throat burns, my back aches, it's time to go in
 But the migraines just seem like my payment for sin
 All poison's the same, be it blue eyes or gin
 Who dares say that this isn't fun?
  
 Mosquitoes are biting with no plans to stop
 This is sure to be one tough outbreak to top
 Silently waiting for even one shoe to drop
 Wait til the lamps die, then run
  
 The glare in my glasses reflects all my flaws
 Ants on the ground start clenching their jaws
 I don’t need a reason, but I do need a cause
 Three cheers for an air-tight excuse
  
 The trees on the corners are lovers forgotten
 When poets survive, the poetry’s rotten
 Snow falls in Valrico, white as bleached cotton
 So put those salt shakers to use
 
 I wear long sleeves and bracelets to hide my thin wrist
 Can’t tell if I’m cancer, or merely a cyst
 A storm is en route, you can tell by the mist
 Pray these houses can’t take the abuse
  
 Scored an ounce of pure nonsense on Mulrennan Road
 Called an old friend just to whisper in code
 We talked about ways we could lighten our load
 All the pros and cons of a noose
 
 The sun isn’t rising and my space bar is stuck
 Attribute all the impure thoughts to bad luck
 Give the vampires some fresh blood to suck
 Even monsters can be stricken with need
  
 Stolen vodka tastes better than chalk dust and sweat
 My mouth is decaying but there’s no need to fret
 I may die someday but I won’t go down yet.
 Bring on the burdened stampede
  
 Crude archangels taste remarkably sweet
 They’re white in the wing, but the reddest of meat
 As their bodies are eaten, they sing of defeat
 Detest every word and any deed
 
 The damp quiet is disgusting, and so am I
 Inventing new ways to watch pestilence fly
 I’m sitting in oil, but refusing to fry
 A mutilated poppy seed

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