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Total Island

A little fortune for the seafood I caught Standing alone in a garage Wouldn’t it be great if we had the day together It is often a place of mirage and a miracle Nothing stands for freedom like you Feeding nine thousand children By the break of the dawn Here to the armature of a ring Places and places down This is the art of war But we were in pieces And had a view of time No motion but the early keep of catch Insofar as my hold And these are the days of the early church Vested and isled to the break of a set of runes Accosted by wind upon wave upon shoal A write bucket and news for St. Peter I know Veering streetless but forth to my home In stretching our day, We were together and prayed And found tiny boxes of salt To give us the sea, We ate lecterns and time And all men would study by one The wear of a mask And doping in the wind A few ways into and out of our faith Nothing but myrrh And clams and sardines And to Orono and Riga we split

A better home For the salted and scared Schools of moat and of vine The precipice of Cuba As it laid unto view The showpiece was Rome, And I knew.