not-so-Vincent

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  mckinleycooper
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He was a reckoning
A gathering of reflected light

Changing the world to every hue
Of the deepest perception of blue

A revival walking
A tragic perfection
With a suitcase full of stale devotion
That kept him in the rain

Seraphims waited to unfurl their wings around him
In his congregation of gloom--
But he would have none of their healing

He was a hierarchy of one
Drifting like a solar eclipse

And defying the heavens
As he brushed the hair from his eyes

for Andy
(you had me with the first chord)



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