Our neighbors are decorating for Halloween. This means giant inflatable ghosts, mummies, pumpkins, green-faced witches, vampire Winnie-the-Poohs, snowglobes full of mylar bats, et cetera, several of which glow at night and all of which are tasteless to the nth—yards full of this stuff, it's unbelievable. It makes me want to put up Halloween decorations of my own. Cornhusks, dog skulls, knots of old ribbon, branches of turning leaves. You know. Normal things.
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- 1: When I invited Frank and you back to mine for a mange tout when I meant ménage à trois
- 2: Well, you can't tell much from faces
- 3: The shadows on the walls don't recognize me anymore
- 4: This po-mo stuff is nice, but it's irrelevant to the way I feel right now
- 5: Be my hand on the oar to row to eternity
- 6: Now I'm walking round the city just waiting to come to
- 7: You know this city like the back of your hand, but deep roots are holding me down
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