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Leave Blank
The track to hell on a New Jersey high way. Another world on the brink of a few choice cuts. It seems worth the ticket at this point, nothing against me, but it's seemingly over. Semantics. Crazed visions of futures. Night terrors. Obscure lighting bruising the third eye. The new age is over, it's dead and gone. We didn't even pay our respects before it was ripped away. What a shame it seems the world keeps spinning. Grass. Sky. Life and lies. The only line worth crossing, twenty two blades at a time. I wonder if the music will live on with no one to listen. Shorelines of doubt continue. Can't and couldn't are about the same these days. We missed our shot. Scream for your soul if you believe it still exists. My displeasure is my pain. The clouds red again, but I can reach them if I try. Maybe it's not to late, but than again, we couldn't. The dream to fly is no more.
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