The checklists pile up. to fuck to fight to fix.
There's always another thing. mountains of scratch marks. so immense and looming. we submit in the silhouette. only to chase destinations. without a damn place to be. locking every door behind us as we leave.
Yet still my sleep yearns for it. and when I awaken it's gone. just these empty hands and a memory. Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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