Gift Eaters - Quietly Hanging On | Текст песни

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• Gift Eaters
• Quietly Hanging On

We wrote poetry in the gutters of these war time homes.
Sprawling north, we were cold, we were striking and hungry.
November winds will chill these ghosts and demons.
We took what we could from the days spent laughing and living
on frostbitten suburban lawns.
And we laughed nervously as life washed over and washed us away.
All of us, quietly left hanging onto the last shreds of our youth.

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