We could all get a little bit to gain, we could all give it up the same.
He turned around to search for friends, and gave me one of my favorite pictures I've taken.
We had regal archways and dreams fit for kings.
Of these cut-throat busted sunsets, these cold and damp white mornings I've grown so weary.
If through my cracked and dusty dime store lips I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?
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