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I like spaghettiOs
dancing reflections in a broken sky
where nothing else will dare to fly
are clouds of wine and butterfly dreams
filling in the growing cracks and seams
while a pair of red and bloodshot eyes
unblinking and so weary and wise
cry what's left into the ground
and try to find what can't be found
another year and cruel December
I'm slowly dying to remember
a broken heart and a broken mind
and another reminder that love is blind
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