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D G The jacaranda are wet with color,
and the heat is a great paint brush, lending color to our lives,
to the air, and to out faces; but I'm going to Alaska
where there's snow to suck the sound out from the air.
D G Up, yes, in the branches, D A the purple blossoms, go pale at the edges;
there is moaning in the shifting of the sap, and I see in them traces D A of last year, but then they hadn't grown so strong, D G and their limbs were more like wires. Now they are cables. D A D thick and alive with alien electricity, and I am going to Alaska,
where you can go blind just by looking at the ground, A where fat is eaten by itself Dsus D just to keep your body warm.
D G Because from where we are now, it seems, really,
that everything is growing in a thousand different ways; D G that the soil is soaked through with old blood and with relatives D A who were buried here, or close to here, and they are giving rise D G to what is happening. Or can you tell me otherwise?
I am going to Alaska, where the animals can kill you,
but they do so in silence, as though if no-one hears them,
then it really won't matter. I am going to Alaska. Dsus D They tell me that it's perfect for my purposes.
D G D A
D G D A… D… D down D up!