It's almost true: You don't expect to follow, watching what you do. I talked my way, half the night in overdrive, with nowhere else to stay: afternoons spent inside crashing on the shadows in the room, wrapped in your reigns. Gone along, you won't forget who's standing out of frame.
Kick and run:
It doesn't fall far from the road and someone's going to come.
Shake it out:
Remember what you'd wanted from the embers floating down.
Aren't you cold?
Standing by my window (curtained up and closed) yesterday. I let the door fly open, broken just the same. It's all so new, though I've known you from somewhere I was only falling through. Save your time, coming out with what you've found on the other side.
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