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May a soft sun bless your sky while you wait for the inevitable

Charbel Haber
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This show starts in the future
One last stroll in the garden of light
Phosphorus resting by the entrance of a quantic maze
Across a flower bed, dressed in Sunday best, lay the bodies of docile beasts
I stutter when I speak of love and death
The unfortunate meeting of an accident and the goddess of time on a dissecting table
An infinity of pixelated seas under an infinity of pixelated suns
This show ends in the past
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Provided courtesy of Apple Music.