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Algún día dejar de vivir para ojos de que me acuerdo

Entre agua caliente y una luna muy baja Hay un sepulcro A los dos los mandaron con regalos El mundo se siente más quieto Años han sido borrados

Art is not interesting, because it’s prepared No puedo seguir hablando inglés

You left a cylinder somewhere quiet and black We hushed as men used lanterns and nets

Calls that make your name shorter and tactile inspections of my hand

I can’t over extend or not extend I can just extend

Sinceramente no creo que haya algo más gracioso,  Que el sonido de alguien corriendo en pantuflas

I see you through swell. Unloyal, warm, slightly away. It's terrifying to see a face within a face.

Dancing like an idiot in the kitchen. Barquito de papel. The smell of Humor 5. The smell of a cloth

Information filled meat... Spinella, spinella, spinella Recalling works wonders around what I want things to be.

You’ll be a prowler, not an adventurer You’ve been given the appliance of uneasiness yet no function… Where’s the fun in that?

I’m honestly still confounded by last Friday’s “events”... Are we gonna have a meeting? I’m part of the chit-chat, but I’m not sure if I can even take a side...

There was something different about it. It was so simple. Not immediately, anyway...

I often wonder what things I can lean into, and which I should avoid.