What happened to my city
Now that it's white from end to end
So I don't mind leaving
And anyway I'm old and it's expected that it grates with young voices shrill as giant angry mice spoiled on cheese?
Of course I love the hills trees leaves rabbits all that stuff that keeps me calm
But leaving this nuthouse knowing that any year now
Guns are back
And kids with black thoughts
And the plastic bag people
And cheap food and music
In spite of that eternal loop
That when it comes I won't be
Melding my own fears, thrills, eager love, young young young anticipation
I'll be gone
Makes me weep.
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