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Jun 2015
Something changes when the sun beats me to bed.
Numbers dance, scripts prance, & a masquerade starts in my head.
Traces of things I should've did, thinking of my tomorrows, my worries, what am I do?
Suddenly this party in my head seizes, music is silenced & the guests vacate once I see that "incoming call" from you.
Written by
Pluck
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