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Glass In Your Feet

Deaths head moth, and a honeybee, and the flightless birds with the useless wings
In the diamond mines of the Indian head, beneath the sawdust moon with the frozen rings
Mastodons and hummingbirds in an endless loop on the windy plain
Chestnut mares and the bison herds and the poison toads in the sugarcane

There are rainbows as the light refracts through the glass in your feet
Blue and green as the wind attacks and the glaciers retreat
Death's head moth and a honeybee and the flightless birds on the ground so cold
Maple leaves are gently falling from the eaves, silver tongues on the golden road

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