It was never morning how I saw it
The entire length of tunnel was my bedroom
And it breathed like a close friend
Wild dogs ran right through me
This is on a map
This map is accurate
Through the echoes came syllables
Through the syllables I heard a curse
But the ground used to swing by underneath me
I used to call for a better push
And often I would get it
I saw over the trees
I saw my father's hands
Next to mine they were thick like a motor
And I was holding the chains in a death grip with my young blue veins
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