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We Live in Sleeves and Buckles

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We live in sleeves and buckles.

We live by curfews and little black books.

We are shown open meadows,

Discreetly surrounded by white-wash walls.

We live in our play pens.

We live by words of men.

We find our way out of one maze,

To be thrown into another.

We live in walls and ceilings.

We live by gravity and motion.

We voyage and explore,

But we never leave our rooms.





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