Born in the sight of aerial division, I've created a turmoil in expertise, an exact precautionary that led no bounds, the expansion of space between the bleak and merciful. We were children and everything was fine, fine lines and motor skills picked upon the sight of the leisure. Being told we would suffer no more, in thought of being chosen.
Yesterday was today and tomorrow is forever, understanding to degrees as it was eternally hot, boiling even, factual. There was a sense of being open for us upon that freeway, gust of favorable steps forward in the tracks we've made. An everlasting summer. We both knew we would. The freeway always ended in highlight of me, in despicable measure in hearing of my story. I strummed my faith and whispered “How dare this forsaken me”, then led off into the wood. Movement and vegetation across pillars, beams of hauntedly, chipped nails and false demeanor. The door was always open for me in due time, I was never fast enough to shut it. It trickled behind and dipped into my conscience, only to be washed away by a faulty excuse. It was loud and blaring before refugee even catered to us. But that was just in mind, disgustingly displaced between eventful and casting. Nothing ever stayed in my sight past five and now I'm losing grip past our slipping memories. I was looked behind, then forward, then from above… nothing… or no one thought twice, that was the leverage in finding my way home in the crossfire.
Seed planted, shot glass… that was the proposal. Themes of marriage and settling. Cattle in the mosh barring it all for the implosion. I understood it yesterday and now for tomorrow. I became a liar, dismembered, inspired. Close your eyes. When your body is broken, look at the way that you smile.
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