Conningsby Close

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
With every opening, there is an ending.

Submitted: November 24, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 24, 2007



Ying yang, you are and you know.
Your ways aren’t the stars
Just a dot on the infinite skies
Erased, as your god spits upon it.

Hoary your pale fortune stands as the
Drunken glass so empty so eventual.

Too easy papa said, cruel is sexy.
So why don’t you stay ingénue person,
As my heart still remains inhospitable.
Egog, egog oh egog
Juvenile such lips become.

Chicken little sometimes knows
what he's talking about.
Lickin’ his wings, throwing his bones to the clouds
as he waits for the great gig in the sky.

King, king… down the
road turn the coming
left go straight and turn
left again… a motel stands your way.
The nails will come one with black flesh.
The wooden cross will taste like silver.
It will carry you and on and on again.
Till we reach and know
Coningsby Close.

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