Port-branch-flow

Away ye hereness don't anding me wake
all that you banded is silliness fake
playing on rivers with literal books
making up instruments for living crooks

Gone was the sense that off was a word
hearing the chirp of yet one more bird
stringing the sentences on beads and snow
wintery wishes in summers of crow

Feed but a little and hold all things back
drama is wardening onto your track
put it to get thur and won't you come home
thus does beginning decide where you roam

Wanting to feelgood and losing your space
subway or roadplay can either we race
broaden the picture of that which was shook
earthen and quaking a streambed tree nook

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