You are the melancholy foghorn
melting thunder away
you are the love beneath the limelight
begging your fire to stay
you are the dreams in every demolished sky
the love in every dilated eye
your heart bleeds bleach, and you don't ask why
you are a tragic stranger, just passing by.
just passing by.
just pass me by.
but what do you do when you get where you're going
and all you want to do is leave?
trace the ribs of the moon with a jealous finger
and all you want to do is leave.
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