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שׁ וּ ב מ וֹ ֵ צ א עַ צְ מִ י בַּ כִּ כָּ ר 4 בַגַּ א ,
- ל ֹ א ְמ
וּ ְ מ עוֹבֵ ד .
ְפּ י עָ ה אֲ רֻ כָּ ה אֲ רֻ כָּ ה .
ִס י רֵ ל ֹ א ז וֹ
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Yet again , I find myself in the hostages ’ square . Unintentionally , Not speaking with anyone Just absorbing pain , making sure feelings still work And the feeling screams inside A long , long blow .
It is not a siren , Just a motorcycle .
There are no earplugs to stop the noise from within .
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ֵא י ן אַ טְ מֵ י אָ י ק אֶ ת הָ רַ עַ שׁ מִ בִּ פְ |
This isn ’ t a helicopter , Just a fan slicing in the darkness . |
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ל ֹ א
ר ח וֹ ת 4 ֵ בּ ַ ח ֹ שׁ 4 ֶ
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Time is running in circles instead of spirals . |
י ם ן ַה י רָ ל וֹ ת |
I stand in fear looking down Towards a crisis of faith . |