Nothing is as it Seems

When busses pass where once were stops

And empty sit the lining shops,

When skies are still blue,

And the trees, still green,

But nothing is messy, nor dirty, nor clean

And birds sing a key lower as the ocean hum rumbles,

And acorns quicken as they tumble.

When the sailboat mass leans,

And the black light beams,

It feels as if nothing is as it seems.

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