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An equation even he couldn't crack

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let me hide between your prophetic numbers
solve me, and i'm
all yours

again

1, 2, 3, we're running out of time

you.
me, dark'room
swimming in chemicals
(you
me)
a yellowing scrap of what we
could have been

no q.e.d. something won't factor out
or factor in

i'm not making this any easier

3, 2, 1

so i fly through pages of prose but nothing fits
shoes made of plaster
crumble and

fall
i would have given you everything





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