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Pigeons
In your cramped little city
Of highs and lows
Of takers and taken
They’re shut out
With their coo-coo
They’re everywhere you’ll never think to hide
You’ll never let them know
Never let them see you cry
They’re a cramp to call your own
A cramp in your style
A cramp in your side
A cramp to your crayon
In the blink of a smile
In the blink of a bird’s eye view
Pigeons, taken
Why do they still come back?
