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Sep 17, 2017 13:51

We are the ones
who own the nights
where all the cows
look right the same

We deserted blank spots
you islands I rock
we piece of beautiful
garbage and radio heads

On these Saturdays bubbles
of empty nest, tales of
crimes you won`t commit
neither I

We do survive
with glasses of poisoned red wine
and fatalities. You`re also better to
tell the lies
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