I lob my serve
You see it slide
I hang a curve
You guess outside
In shallow space
Round turns to flat
Depth has erased
Your turn at-bat
I pitch the truth
Into your mind
But only one eye
There I find.
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I lob my serve
You see it slide
I hang a curve
You guess outside
In shallow space
Round turns to flat
Depth has erased
Your turn at-bat
I pitch the truth
Into your mind
But only one eye
There I find.
