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Lucille would never understand me because I like too many things and
get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another
till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. |
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What
is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede
on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? -- It's the too-huge
world vaulting us, and it's goodbye. But we lean forward to the next
crazy venture benath the skies. |
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On
the piano a horn sat; its golden shadow made a strange reflection
along the desert caravan painted on the wall behind the drums. God
was gone; it was the silence of his departure. It was a rainy night.
It was the myth of a rainy night. |
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It
was sad to see his tall figure receding in the dark as we drove away,
just like the other figures in New York and New Orleans: they stand
uncertainly underneath immense skies, and everything about them is
drowned -- Where go? What do? What for? -- sleep. But this foolish
gang was bending onwards. |
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