In my dream there were great opourtunities,
People in purple scarves.
A wetland disease
Which took over our hearts.
Like a flood that began from our
Insides,
And then tore us apart.
And we gazed at the stars but we didn't know why
All our little glass people
Learned not to hide
In our pockets as soon as they learned the moonlight.
How sweet it was
Just to be
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