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© 1980 The Imports

Whatever came of
While supplies last
The face that left me
And is gone

Tears flow from hands
Of those who can’t fall
Even sidewalks have cracks
Laugh it off

Cover the streets
Truth is outside
But only in places
It’s gone now

Death comes after
Anger can be sorrow
It shook me up so
And left me

Sickness in the air
Escape lying in truth
Circular logic encompasses me
I reach out