Late at night I hear music
drifting into my ears, from where
I do not know
It sounds like a door to a church, that has been left gently ajar
and from far within it's halls comes the strong but distant strain of a song
It's like that sound inside your head when you hold your breath too long
but I know I'm still breathing
It feels like the world is spinning, turning slowly and it's weight is dragging
against the moving wind, against the drifting life
It sounds like something that is scraping against something else
It's like a heave and a sigh and a "don't ask me now"
It's fingertips dragging across still waters
(The trains shift and settle, re-assure me that it's not them making that noise and that they hear it too, and yes we're all still here)
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