Most of the day We were at the machinery In the dark sheds That the seasons ignore I held the levers that guided the signals to the radio But the words I receive, random code, broken fragments from before. Out in the trees My reason deserting me All the dark stars Cluster over the bay. Then in a certain moment I lose control and at last I am part of the machinery. (The belldog) Where are you? And the light disappears As the world makes its circle through the sky.
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