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Carnival
2am
Two black eyes
and an oil slick smile
pretty fille tending toward
the water
the smell of scorching
bulbs and neon
beacons.
4am
A man thrusts
his accordian
together
it’s quite the picturesque vista
a year’s grief pinned
to a chimera’s feathers
comme par hasard
12pm
The Italian’s fingers
smoulder when
the strings
lick his skin
a thousand tiny lashes
something is happening..

All of my favourite songs have the same chord progression.