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Poetry as History. History as Catharsis. Catharsis as Poetry.

Fever Dream

Woke up in a haze again this morning
Why should what I say
Make any sense today

Fever dream
And how could I believe her
When nothing's what it seems

A light shines through my clouded afternoon
A smile is all she had
It always makes me sad

Fever dream
I never thought I'd leave her
but that's just what it seems

The moon looks over my shadow this evening
I gained and lost a friend
You get yourself in the end

Fever dream
I knew that I'd deceive her
but even that's not what it seems