Confiscate letters like D.E.B.
No natural course of things for her to expect
Withdraw the feelings 'You can, you can't'
I called your number as you told the world
Something is wrong
There is no longer any normal to me
You're my assassin but you can't see the crime
Pointless possessions of me & you & greed
I looked at you mistaking needles for eyes
Something is wrong
G. Webb Feb/March '82
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