prospect park, brooklyn, nyc
I step through every shade,
All the color you bring,
This time, this time, this time,
Is whatever I want it to mean.
And everything and nothing is as sacred as we'd want it to be,
When it's really all,
Make it really all,
Compared to what?
It's like living in the middle of the ocean,
With no future, no past,
And everything that's good about now,
Well, might just glide right past.
bethorton, centralreservation
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