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Feel the tundra nip at your frozen fingers, the ice on your breath it lingers as outwardly blown.
In Siberia, these are the simple pleasures, the Post-American treasures adrift in the snow
Still I brood wide awake, snuffing out the contacts as I fade
Before I knew it, I was a lone wolf drifter, sniffing out scraps for dinner and a roof for a home. But those were hidden beyond the eyes that sought them. Even the hands that wrought them were considered unknown.
Soon I ruled it a fake, and pushed myself to the other cooling face.
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2. |
Zima Tomska
02:53
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Heat's gone away I feel it plundering the warmth from my legs sucked out through my toes. She couldn't stay, cause the continent is turning in the opposite way, it's a precipitated state
She said we wouldn't be important anymore in a year or so, maybe more if I stay. Maybe she's right but I feel that could change, as long as we carefully manage our escape
My fingers ache through the pockets of my overcoat, it's time for new gloves or a new mental state and the end of the day is so much earlier than it was yesterday, it's the Siberian plague
Grandmothers yelling through paper thin walls, she's earned her apartment so she's always got a say. Maybe she's right, but this Gagarina flat is mine for the year as long as I pay.
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