Fall sounds of rain.
Why can’t I go.
Those days when spokes wound baseball cards tear hear them roar.
And faster still those boards which let fly souls.
Honeysuckle walk right afternoon time dies.
Wish for sometime soon.
I’ll work it out.
So many faces.
Why can’t I go back when this mess was not made.
Forever turns out just the same as two months.
That rages on then after
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