Walking down long roads with small feet. Cold winters wither these warm feet into weak shivers,
each week gives us more yeast. as we rise through the crude heat.

My whole life is a strange winter. 

Strange as mistltoes under missle drones of terror 
Tamed by displeasure.
Taught my disapproval
As strange as this weather
Caught and disillusioned.

But who's to disprove this
Who's say who's right
Who knows better
Isit he who made life
Isit he who made ice out of what he was given
Is it he who made art 
Decisions Decisions Decisions 

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