falling down the outside world
you can distinguish every single edge
in the shape of their breath
taking pictures of a summertime again
looking for lost places I felt this before
where unheard voices remain
of an happy day
when time like a sleepwalker
flows around hot and cold
smelling the air
spinning around to hide
when the world is outside
you can distinguish every single edge
in the shape of their breath
taking pictures of a summertime again
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