he would scream how each of his cells miss you. Miss you, is the only words he knows from you and hopefully you don't know... You don't know all his secrets, all his lies when he lies on unknown sofas belonging to nowhere. Nowhere is here and I don't match, there is much that I could except. Except in you I believe in nothing true, my sweet religion lies in your arms; without you I'm a missland, nothing true always blue, my bittersweet disease, without I'm nothing.
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