I've let the axe sever ties in my life, I wore them around my neck and I keep them tight. I let the wood of the chair hit. The white porcelain is brunt of the break and I have shed all but the great lengths to reap what I sow and render blanks. I can't promise that I'll bend the moon, but please don't bother, love, (we'll be home soon)x2.
I hung in the space of the last few words you said.
Find what you love and let it kill you. He was right. He's never spoken brighter truth. And let the skies wane first in the presence of your youth. You've never shined brighter than your face in lieu of booths.
Lissome will bring home a new eye.
Don't you be a new break for new weight to hold me through this cracking ground.
Don't touch it, just let it bloom by itself. It will grow faster if you have faith.
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