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It’s all your own doing

all your own script

people will tell you

your life’s like a rubber ball

keeps coming back to you

all your own shit.


You’re living the past again

forty years, fifty years

seem like they’re yesterday

all coming back to you

all the old places, all the old tears.


Songs that they played

clothes that you wore

girls that you kissed

midnight encounters

fragrant with chewing gum

fumbling at buttons and straps

all the old traps.


Somehow I understand

you’re in that other land

refuse to come back

so take me back with you

maybe we’ll start anew

midnight encounters

fragrant with bubblegum

fumbling at buttons and straps

who knows, maybe, perhaps?

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© Johnmichael Simon



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