I will meet you, raise you twenty, two sides grounded by a widespread Sea. Cross-Atlantic, snap your fingers, keeping time and steady aim; I can see you from my city, and I'll see you while the angles still remain. Only the base is changing; only that line is stretching. I can walk it. I can trace it. All winter long my song will stay the same.
1 Comments:
the world is back in order.
nice template, too.
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