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By rockandrollhs, Robbinsville, NJ


There is a clash of breaking sound
The bits are scattered on the ground
But I would be no other place
The circles that our fingers trace
Are better lost than found.

Hands flat-broke and trouble-bound
The ageless face of sorrows, drowned
The bitterness is in the chase
There is a clash of breaking sound.

And with the crash comes the resound
The splinters that still hang around
Attract me like your broken pace
Deadly, true, but soft embrace…
These strings are still so tightly wound.
There is a clash of breaking sound.

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