Art through prescription
BANHAMMER
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Well i had a lot of shitty friends
A lot of conversations, lots of little things that prove the accusations
weren't a load of shit
East-deep in the south, where the deer whisper things
Goodnight.
Deep in the woods, not a man to be seen.
Just the fluttering of moths, in a casket of green.
Cicadas here don't die, they live and breathe and fuck
Live, breathe, fuck.