home[land] bound:
soon time will collapse by ten-
fold itself into a paper plane
wings gliding weightless
on earth's crisp breath
on earth's crisp breath
high above the Atlantic
over the ribs of memory
and rolling mountain hills
take me down to the flip-side
and rolling mountain hills
take me down to the flip-side
of reality
and the heart of the matter -
to you my dearest
mother, i am coming home
to be reborn
to be reborn
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