jueves, 5 de noviembre de 2009

Remembering Sunday


I'm not coming back I've done something so terrible. I’m terrified to speak the truth you'd expect that from meI’m mixed up, I’ll be blunt. Now the rain is just washing you out of my hair. And out of my mindkeeping an eye on the world. So many thousands of feet off the ground. I'm over you now I'm not home in the clouds. Showering over your hair

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