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30 for 30 NPM


And so it begins. 
Again, a grin scrapes its way 
Through the grimace on our prayers: 
For the fallen. The forgotten. 
The beautiful ones who speak 
With the twang of a god 
And twist of a timeline. 
Tequila-tarnished sun in your rise 
From the grave to grace. 
We are butterflies crossing freeways. 
Razor-witted obsidian simian scholars 
Calling each other culprit. 
Preachers rockin cock rings in the pulpit. 
Sulphur-souled vultures 
Picking our dreams clean 
Close your eyes, eclipse an illusion. 
Listen. Find truth in confusion. 
It is there. Like we are here. 
Survivors: the plural of phoenix. 



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