William Doyle
Beneath the Soil
(lay down, take the blood out of your skin)on the subject of this declinethis wasn't exactly what I had in mindriding on the last legs of every lielooking for the truth until it struck me blindbut every yearwe waste with searchingfor a higher purposethan what we've been giventrapped in the suburbs I'm pining for the airtake me back to Washington squarelooking for escape roots like mining for oilI only find symmetry beneath the soil
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