On broken sleep the world lets out a moan As rubble conceals the flesh, its perilous deep That burned one time like a bluesy saxophone... Horrific wounds surrounding the panic, the dutiful Profanity of War that comes to murder the beautiful. Our broken sleep like madness under the skin Will not let us fully rest, or breathe, or begin. Lost sleep invites the tempo: three nightingales sing In the Holy Land.
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ON BROKEN SLEEP
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On broken sleep the world lets out a moan As rubble conceals the flesh, its perilous deep That burned one time like a bluesy saxophone... Horrific wounds surrounding the panic, the dutiful Profanity of War that comes to murder the beautiful. Our broken sleep like madness under the skin Will not let us fully rest, or breathe, or begin. Lost sleep invites the tempo: three nightingales sing In the Holy Land.