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Flipping another page, But I already know that the words sound gross, I hate my position and the cards been dealt, The feelings that were felt, And the hand I took, Made me have to relook, At what's in store, We can't see it as a volcano, On a distant island, But man its tough to see the helicopter, Made of sticks, I promised that my heart never quits, So ill dig my toes in the sand, Outside my heartbreak hotel, And watch as my emotional Malibu, Goes to hell.
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
The air tastes salty and I'm alone.
Flipping another page, But I already know that the words sound gross, I hate my position and the cards been dealt, The feelings that were felt, And the hand I took, Made me have to relook, At what's in store, We can't see it as a volcano, On a distant island, But man its tough to see the helicopter, Made of sticks, I promised that my heart never quits, So ill dig my toes in the sand, Outside my heartbreak hotel, And watch as my emotional Malibu, Goes to hell.
The fire crackles
the-masked-sleepyz
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
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