Little Hammer
Pounding away in the back of my head
Until I've almost lost myself
And those red and black patterns
In which nothing happens
Have made me sleep
A beautiful voice is a nail
Being pulled out of wood
Carry on little hammer
You were always my favourite toy
When the world's dead to me
In my soft fortunate cushion of pins
Is a soldier
Slicing thin through thin
The unfortunate truth sneaking in
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