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Mar 2010
Music flows through your eyes.
It fills them to the brink
Expands the blue skies
A huge glass to drink

Eyes heavy with drum beats
Music says what can't be said
Sleeping on top of the sheets
Songs paint a picture in your head

Birds in your sleep
Gray eyes hovering in the dark
Shouting Base lines that start to creep
The bird is a lark.
Patrick McCombs
Written by
Patrick McCombs  26/M
(26/M)   
495
   elle
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