Chris Walla


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There's a hole in your voice
And you say it's a choice,
But I don't understand.

There's a tear in the wind
From the prick of a pin,
And it's set to expand,
And strength is hard to find.

There's a gash in your words
But your office prefers
That we don't understand.
And as gravity fails, we will hang
With our receipts for our flags in our hands,
Our things rising fierce from our lands.

Strength is hard to find,
But when your post and guard resign
We will seal all your little holes.