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There I see the white light
With money telling me to stay
Behind the feeling
I lag. The notes it takes
Are for a critique I am
Shouting surprise. Now a
Childhood emphasizes
This strenuous tone.
I'm grateful for it
In a gloomy voice, the heart
Of the world does it again.
Molten iron, a boring
Shadow on the frame
Left by a conk on the head.