Head Clouds - Admission Slip

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Pile up rubbish
By the front door
Head over to the salon
Pour a drink, a ticking clock, a cannonball

Our laughs are one's of jackals
Spiking through some wintry night
Our new arms stretching ever, ever outward
It never fades, ringing out, even at dawn

I bought a dream with an ADMISSION SLIP
Hell, I bought it twice
Now I will go to the depths
I am told, there is warmth, cleaner air, softer light.

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