I sat in front of a Hefe, having wandered into a biker bar, fantasizing about a leisurely ride to nowhere behind a broad bear, cuddly or block and time hard, hair with no reason, and miles of life and experience between us
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You're miles away and my heart stagnates. You're right here, and I don't want to see you. You're not far, and there'll always be a connection but never the same longing or desire.
It seems not worth the effort and outcome to seek any kind of emotional/physical comfort.
Maybe it's the medication and I've finally woken up from the illusion.
is the only mother fucker who could sing about magic and rainbows and not have his manliness called into question. He was an album away from slapping a rivited unicorn on it and saying "what now, bitches
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