Short Arctic desert day --- and someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra. Look around every which way but I can`t see just where the footprints go. Is it a casual disappearance? --- Plucked from the middle atmosphere like straw wind-blown. No speck on the horizon --- no simple message scrawled upon the snow.
Unearthly visitation --- someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra. Hungry buzzard flier circling round and round rattling death`s tambourine.
Have to run it down the cold wire --- late insertion in tomorrow`s lost and found. Should I spread out searching? But I`m a little thin upon the ground.
So I raise my lips to coax the last drop of brandy from the bottle. Rest my feet and contemplate the mystery that`s haunting this Siberian space.
Show-shoes they bind me down --- I`m just one more parasite of the surface layer. I begin to get the feeling I`ve been on this stage before and I`m the only player.
One more Arctic desert day --- another set of shoes out in the tundra snow. I make my fade to white-out and you can`t see me where my footprints go.
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