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Slight Of Hand
14 February, 2001
Author: Diaos

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I am carving a blank in the table.
There's no more room in this thing.
All used up and lost New-car-smell,
But as homely as it is it's still Home.
(but for me?)

Watch where you sit...
Your bound to be killed!
(bound to a chair, fit to be tied)
Wait while you leave...
There's keys to be made!
(keys that ruin the paint)

If you cut yourself as well as you say,
We'll have to stop, and set a date.

I haven't much to do.
My arms are gone and my legs asleep.
Nice though: sitting around or lieing...
(I can't tell)
New found numb

Apple-head, bullet face,
Shouldn't have jumped...
(I guess)
The world tumbles and
The ground hits with a bias.
It's wanted to do so since my name arrised

Today is a good day,
Not as good as the last.
But time is relative...
(and as nice a thought)
There's nothing relevant in the past.

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