is it a throne is it a chair who can tell there’s too much tied to it too many threads to follow back home, we call it you wouldn’t understand anyway it holds no one
story come where you’re from who calls us stars who calls us wanderers they’re the tongue i want on mine the music in my ear it’s the kind of abyss you make eye contact with when the self touches infinite space it creates a vacuum a space where nothing no matter so what
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