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If I should return like I once did Animals will mark me with brown infant eyes The same eyes whose lids I kissed the high grass in which they sit Is shoulder length and hanging on your forehead A week is four years in ancient hive minds And soon those eyes begin to well up Your shallow grave concealed by fragrant leaf piles Black glistening bird eyes averted When the police bring me in (x6) We'll tell them "this is why we need secrets"