Eliad Fridman Green - Packs of Two and Three

Packs of Two and Three
Eliad Fridman Green

They lay down on a foggy beach and try to pass the time
A frame so vacant, they can't tell if they still think it's fine
The walls are closing down back home, there's no where left to run
I leave our pictures on the wall, believe that we're not done.

I left the seasonless beach to join the pier of obsessions
The burned down structure that has fallen
(like the winds in my home town)
The vigorous anonymity keeps pulling me towards it's centre
Follow me along the seashore, one of these days we'll both be free.

They come in packs of two and three and lean on one another
They throw their trash along the beach and lie to cover after
They dig black holes and build up poles as high as vapour clouds
And when the tide comes in they run back home to try and understand each other.

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