so love,
days gone by and there is no reasonable request
when it comes to you, ain't there?
My mind is my own so are mistakes
my heart poorly beating and
my soul crushed in this; what shall we call it?
'featherd cloud in august noon'
doesn't surprise you I guess
I think, I really really do, to damn much of you
If love is lethal and hurt absurd
everything unspoken
all that's left
i'll go right
...
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