All the way down deep down the blackness into the red book about a lighthouse struggling with the fall and the little boy who turns clocks into rocks and rocks into rubies Gloves cover his face but his nose sees it all He kills it he kills them yet they still exist where clocks can be rocks and rocks can be rubies All inside the mind of the frog raining painfully down onto me and my shoes sitting with peanuts and the little boy all the way down.


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