strike a match there's an island in the sky this morning here outside your window layer me down to the river so we had plans and we made short work of them on the movement of a winking eyebrow every second I've been dying I first felt the shame down the boulevard lane 100 years later when we should of met both of our deaths will it still baffle me that you've crowned from the brook as the bound to be stunned misunderstood sugar-and-spite-machine?
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