Waxwings melting, we lament for help
Drawn to the sun’s brilliance
Nonetheless, inferred the optimistic
My hands bound everywhere
Am I valiant or foolish to stare at the sky?
With the melancholy of the sailor’s wife
Rustling mockery in my pocket
Drawn to the sun’s brilliance
Nonetheless, inferred the optimistic
My hands bound everywhere
Am I valiant or foolish to stare at the sky?
With the melancholy of the sailor’s wife
Rustling mockery in my pocket
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