The late minutes belong to me
Marching by, haughty in their guiltiness
Dripping slow like water off stalactites
Muttering stiff apologies in mechanical tones
Stacking on themselves like firewood ready to burn
Those late minutes, they belong to me
And to the determined car
And to the mercurial music
And to the thought of you lying in bed
Arm behind your head, thoughts
Of me before your eyes
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