I'm a driving snowy, levitating snog, and back
down in opals, my thin white skin, we are shimmer the seat, but steps by steps
pint, they age, and man can't keep following them, so change and leave, step
the black passengers eyes away from us, and buy a new seat. This is Miss. Blue
car, new car, in England with the kisses.
Her little white arms are round my shoulders,
and her eyes constantly watching the road, we get dressed soon as we stop, and
step out, we have escaped, Im ten years older than 23.
This is where I wanted to go. The peacetimes.
What a long silly war.
It took me ten months to get ten years older.
I found her over the bridge, on a shelf I kept with the sun, it started one
way, and ended another, but travelled the same line it always should.
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