Echoed beauty, whispered from a gentle river,
Twenty-two stops along the way.
Empty ditch, sucking up rainwater from the spraying clouds above,
A free floating vessel, my soul's glove.
Rolling thunderstorm pouring down music from the stage,
Now a simple stream, trapped within a cage.
White eyes that spin in the dark of night,
Twirl the dreams of a dreamers plight.
No more chance to say good bye,
My only friend, nameless, lifeless, died.
 
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