In my wonder I can weigh the loss that we all suffered felt in headaches from the knowing heroes lives uncovered to be seen as they had always been nothing but a boring shade of blue from the knowing that I'll never sing in tune like the rest of you like the truth that beautiful could be wealthy spelt another way said to us in words that linger words that swear we'll make it through the day
let die our spoiled architect boroughs let die our finger-printed window sorrows let us address our wakes by name say "I'd have the strength to face you, day, if not for all the broken things in my life."
I found the need to stay alive, reason enough to pay to mind that all of this could mean the world or be such a fucking waste of time
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