I heard you’re on the way out, but I feel nice when you’re here. I never got to ask you if you ask yourself to answer to your fears. Initials on the first page — all I will say for myself. These bags are half empty for what returns with me. I mean, I’m pessimistic… Even in the city I still like counting the stars after dark. And though we’re in this city for now, will my permanent home be in your heart? Emptiness on the first page. There’s lots of space for my friends — our heads are full of stardust! — nothing will ever break us: the oldest shit in the world.
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