Past the parked cars
stumble back to sleep
back to acquiring the sandman's dust
No the sky is such a pale blue that screams for you to wake
It screams your clothes off
and makes you run naked down dawn's street
your shame makes you run back behind the parked cars
but you may never cover anything up
The window into success has wide grin curtains of designers
Their living the dream some versatile species of satisfaction
that moves from face to face to taste what they are tasting,
to feel what they are feeling, to think their thoughts
Shame is not allowed in the pale blue
And flames of glory burn by courage
thus to mold you
To design the designer
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