Driven home back from the city. Lead grey sky come wash us nearly. Can`t you see there`s no horizon? In this speeding place called London.
I don`t think that this makes too much sense. Dampened soul come called fron slumber. Woken up; calmed like no other. As you moan you`ll hear my laughter You grow old, I grow young faster.
I don`t think that this makes too much sense. Can`t you see?
I`m all used up. I need somebody to come and feed me.
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