A bullet-proof vest
Of your face
Stands for caress
And healing punches
Of Comanche
Committing crime to yourself
Never able capture bold finesse
Crime, crime, crime and punishment
Crime, crime, crime and success
Like stealing from yourself
Like stealing from yourself
Like stealing from your soul that
Leans towards the fence
It’s a strange, strange moment
I’m looking at my face
In old and rotten …
7 August 2008
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