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KatynIn the forest, beneath the trees
Another man falls to his knees
No headstones or crosses on the graves
For that's "reserved for the brave"
But privileged to be buried with many
The body count far over twenty...
Gagged, tied, bound
They dare not utter a sound
For if they try,
Just close your eyes,
And wait for the ‘bang!’
One bullet through the head,
One more falls down dead
Rinse, reload, repeat
To the streets
In the forest, beneath the trees
Another man falls to his knees...
“Make sure no words get out
To the streets...”
FINAL GOODBYEI used to use this song to help me cope with the loss of my beloved husband, I wish to now make a final tribute to the little Plato I love so much, thanks for all your love. Audra.
"Looks Like Rain"
by The Grateful Dead
Awoke today, felt your side of the bed;
The covers were still warm where you been layin'.
You were gone, oh gone, my heart was filled with dread;
You might not be sleeping here again.
But it's alright cause I love you, and that's not going to change.
Run me around and make me hurt again and again.
But I'll still sing you love songs, written in the letters of your name.
The rain is gonna come, oh it surely looks like rain
Did you ever waken to the sound of street cats making love?
You guess from the cries you were listening to a fight.
Well you know, oh know, haste is the last thing they're thinking of.
You know they're only tryin' to make it thru the night.
I only want to hold you, I don't want to tie you down
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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