Poesie Noire

Hidden Dimension

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If I changed crows' feet into nightingales feet
and varicose veins into coral greet

If I changed baldness into full moon
and corpulence into flying balloon

This world would sound much better.
This world would sound far better.

A word is only a little bird, flying through ears without being heard
A word is only a blow of air, blowing through rooms helplessly bare.

It's just a game of words.
Let's search for the hidden dimension.

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