08:22 

девяносто девять

дабл вэ
I close my eyes a better man or imagine that I can imagine such a thing. And it goes on and on and on and on like that. Project myself into the air, and float in a weightless night, it’s better than sitting heavy backed, and sending waves of anxious hate into the street, trying to shut down the stop lights

It isn't real, but it feels real

As I crane my neck to an emptiness (better than knowing nothing at all) I feel in my chest (I know I know myself). Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up cause I’ll never know.
“I’m weak again, stay inside, hate everything.” Well hey, that’s our lot. And I’m already inside out. Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up and I’ll never know what you said, because I’ll be fucking dead by then

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собаки, полные безумных совпадений.

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