The Thing

Lying down in a bar
The trees are growing on
Wood branch in my car
My need is always wrong

Strumming kind a guitar
It might have made a song
The man came down from afar
His hair just seems too long

All feelings go with the wind
Our love is only a dream

The thing awaits in the dome
It's proud not eating flesh
But my flesh
It finds very eatable

The thing is coming undone
It might have left its lair
I always search and it's gone
Someday I will not care

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