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Such a strong box


sides black and cold to the touch


Not a crack, not a hole


hum and sputter with the muffled sound


of a banjo that never stops


Dreaming I could look you in the eyes, dancing,


as you look into mine


and not turn away


back into the box

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Let's play we are a tune


and make a kind of song


You be the breath, I'll be the horn


it will not take us long

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