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Hunted By a Freak

Mogwai


A bullet of sunlight pierces the clouds
golden heaven touches ground
I see that childhood toy that hangs
above the crib and spins around
Except it is suspended from a golden yellow sky
With paper mache animals and gargoyles hoisted from it
The golden Porsche makes its way up a Great Plains highway
Glaring sunlight from its grill
We never get a glimpse but there is the suspense
Of being hunted by a freak
Compositor: Mogwai

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