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Tahoe's Tears


by Gary Percesepe


 

And the night is a hand slid over your face

You always wonder where you will die

This lunatic world is one last good trace

 

Of galactic empires inserted in space

Little clouds white at the end of the sky

And the night is a hand slid over your face

 

Your grandson skypes a plea to embrace

The last bit of solace your heart wants to try

This lunatic world is one last good trace

 

Uranus begs to be draped in black lace

Saturn is dying for whiskey & rye

And the night is a hand slid over your face

 

They sold Lake Tahoe to some guy named Mace

Who wanted to rent but decided to buy

This lunatic world is one last good trace

 

Hercules dials a bid to replace

He's put on hold and begins to cry

And the night is a hand slid over your face

This lunatic world is one last good trace.

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