Read the tea leaves
Rub the ruby slippers
Get out of Oz
Time walks tall in all of us
knocking on doors afraid of being opened
Doors shut without possibilities are digested into fragments
The red ghost waits at the fifty yard line
tackling linebackers that push the wrong horse
Doomed dreams play at cinemas
during dust storms to spread stinging truths
that cover paths of an oily nirvana
only able to glimpse ordinary lives
lucky enough to rhyme with Madonna
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