The Good Morning

It’s one of those sunrises when nothing “productive” happens.
One of those dew striped mornings of something more than beautiful.
See I left my breath in the sparkling city of Athens
When I left and pretended that life was never wonderful.

The chorus of wise men with vampire teeth and zombies rags chants
That no matter how long you work and plunder the divine,
You will never join in glory’s infinite and cherised dance,
You will drown in the ghosted weary version of the Rhine.

Castles in clouds never meant much to you if you still breathe
After hearing the dance of death they cast upon your shoulders.
Linger in the sparkling Athens your enchanted heart, See.
For the Rhine to be sparkling all on must do is breathe upon the boulders.  

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