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Conveyor
-
Reach
So when I was leaving I was left
Whichin' through the thinkins in my head
All of yours and all of them divine
The sulfur in your nose and all the thrill of being out of
...reach...
...reach...
...reach...
...reach...
So when I was leaving you were right
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Never not for meeting for a ride
Of bluish days on cider syrup highs
Apple seeds and sighing cyan sky
Were out of
...reach...
...reach...
...reach...
...reach...
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