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Life rolls on even when you don't want it to
Trying to find the hidden mechanism of stillness
The thrill is gone, smoked up on the back porch
Holding wicked torch, lighting up lines of houses
Blouses held open to the wind, waiting on rain to send them running
Mumbling through gas station interactions, floorgaze reaction
Gaining traction through inaction, empty rattling boxcar soul
Always digging the hole a little deeper, one security, one sleeper

◄ False floor

Smashing teacups ►

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