We are the fallen the dropped and crawlin. We are, we are- the youth of the na-a-tion. We dream in rhymes and speak in colors. Baby close your eyes, you might just see me. Just maybe. If you really try
I've been thinking about all the places I have left my voice. All the random pictures that I may be in the background of. Places to find or not find comfort in when I'm gone. How much is appropriate to leave. and to whom?
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