barely alive on 2 AM airline my past is just the places i`ve passed the windows were tinted my eyes were half shut my focus is fragile if my heart is a glass here lies the ruins of a little known author there go the ashes of a dying dream it`s hard to sit down when your hometown is a greyhound now i`m exhausted and there`s no time to sleep i`m gathering leaves from a once beautiful tree which no one else will have the chance now to see or climb it burning miles at a time it`s mine is mine
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