One door closes and another opens
It is the way of things
How much I have seen this – my nose stuck in the very grain
From outside in the cold, all houses look inviting
And yet it is the very living that proves
So we must believe – but for God's sake make that selection
From the bottom of the beer glass
Things look right, full, bright, balanced and easy
Close up, they flounder – a counsel dripped in slipped memory
Look forward to monsters!
They morph into sleeplessness, a charm or a definition
And on that note I bid you goodnight!
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