Right after the beginning and right before the end
Take a left at the center my soul's button.
Quietly wipe my face tonight, a shining example of water turning into light.
Blood in my whisky, trying not to weep, I can only figure out your little hope full of Grace.
Money is no object; my objective is your safe return to the cosmic firefighting all beyound
my sweet saviours.
Lie amoung my choices for flowers and grades of brass, blades of grass, green dreams, wild frosty
Morning of Time
Queen of my quitting all the time
Why I'm still growing old
Now here we go again.
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