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no one believed there was life in the dark corners of the ceiling,where the moonlight woul
heartsextractedfor each otherwarm and dripping,a cycle of lonelinesscomingto an end.
it’s peculiar,the power of dustfound in the cold spaceswe dream abouteyes openand bre
the depth of a universelooking down at usas we try to find our waywith shoes untied.
what is the distance of life, and how much time does it take to travel through?
i never forgot the silence after a good story.
we’ll give life to these embers with our lungs, hoping the sun reignites.
believers of today, believers of tomorrow, keep believing, keep believing it will all make sense.
it’s peculiar,the power of dustfound in the cold spaceswe dream abouteyes openand bre
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