those sensitive chaos days

like that summer when you climbed so many trees your knuckles bled green, the park lost count of your conquests and i laid so still in the morning dew grass we laughed like children were more than young and the fire of life was full in bloom

and we watched slowly miracles turn their heads and every girl was a way to see things and we fell so far so many times standing beneath powerlines thinking about how fine it would be to climb them for a living

2004-06-21 | 9:38 p.m.
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