Waking up around 12 isn't nearly as fun as it seems.
Dreams about homicidal mothers fill my head.
Staring into the sun as it runs to hide.
Hours upon end staring at the covers of records.
The city lights are too bright as you fly by.
Fucking ducks, Jamba Juice, and 70's style playgrounds...
All this while the songs of our past play so silently on the
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