Maybe you should kick the news right out of me,
till all wind is free and from my lungs
hanging in the sky floating loosely.
Cos when ears are plugged, and the phones
been rattling endlessly all morning long
no chance in hell that I'll be speaking.
all the words stuck in my heads
can't even formulate into their songs.
all traffic lights hang in thin air,
flickering their own hums.
and it's all right in front of me.
you're all that's in front of me anymore.
cos I walk right past it all.
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