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Waking up to reality

Tripping past the newspaper

In the hall

Doors open,

The glare burn my eyes

But even the "sun"

Won't stop me getting my fix

Regretful breathing

Softens the feeling

Tiptoed on iced slate

Misty morning

Spit into the grate

No one can see

This early morning I'm free

Only in the early hours I'm free.

◄ The words of God

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