those rounds done we peek in the peak.
I pack rice translates as comedy.
I see that phrase of notes lingering in the atmosphere.
to much sugar softens the soles of my feat.
you can sea that that ran
these hand clappings sound like leaves.
departures
I need the sway to know
I need the way to snow
I seed the nay to now
they've grown...
glowing green in the craned camera angle
...they've grown
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