we met at some place one two seven or what
and spoke a lot around the question marks
left posts on the walls scratched just a tiny hole or two
for a crack of silence to break on through
to jim's jack's jill's oblivious side
of our own desolate drowning whisper scars
i guess we were the dead openers society
in societies all closed for the hours poured out
leaking down the galaxies like hitchhiker's tears
with a thumb up thumb down perilous semiotics
poor marvin at forty two sadly figured out the question
unparalleled in all equations of long lost times
at two seven or what at two seven or five
at woe to be gone or not hitch hike or die
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