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Black handbag.
I stare down into the gaping mouth of my handbag
The eyes are standing on a cliff, a tipping point
Shapes emerge, engulfed in black matter
What do I want, what do I need?
None of this is relenting
It never stops
I need to get out
But how?
(Metaphor for general feelings)
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but someday i'll steal your car and switch the gears
and drive that cherokee straight off this trail of tears
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