Cloudy day… You’re still in my room. Your eyes hiding on my window. Liverpool: Your body on the ground. Our feet, still smiling and full of sorrow. Who is going?
Anyday… Landing back in town. Turbulence. You’re sleeping on my shoulder. Springtime: I’m realizing I still miss you. Fugitives on the road to Denton. Who is going? Who is going to teach me now? There is a lot of places for two seeds of sesame. Is it your day my day?
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