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I fantasize about Clementine Izzies.
feel empty lately
If a miniature planet crashed on my head
they would land in a forest of hope and scrap
of a defeated solider, of a soulless man
And if one of those travelers reached out his hand
and said we’re your peace, so you’ll understand
why we love this world, but it must end…end…end…
Oh, there’s an empty place in my bones
That calls out for something unknown