It is as if too say, that when I think of something I usually say it in my head, or see something, something tangible. But the things I care most about, they are special so that they take on something else, no longer a truly comprehendible thought, something else, something more. I know what I am thinking about, but I don't know how, I just do. No
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can i light your cheap gas station cigarette
and will you sit with me outside the seven eleven and talk for hours
could i reach my hands into your pretty eyes, and feel around 'til i can grab at your heart
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