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It feels good to sit in the sun
as she wraps her golden arms
like a crown of thorns 'round that troubled head
It feels good to sit and watch
a seagull soar and land and make footprints in the sand
and before the waves wash them away
You feel good because you are the only one who knows he etched them there before they are gone as he waddles
peering into your eyes as if he knows
the cigarrette your smoking is illegal
But damn it feels good
It feels good to say your words, alone, to the wind as they carry on driving down the interstate breeze getting washed over by gay blue waves;
It feels good to be alone on a Friday



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