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Jan 2019
It's 4:18 in the morning and everyone here at home is asleep, they can't hear me tossing and turning in my bed, the squeek of the springs are keeping me awake.
It's 4:19 in the morning and I'm packing a bowl wishing you were here next to me.
It's 4:20 in the morning, I flick my lighter and inhale, hoping you feel a little buzzed too.
Can't help myself.
Written by
Broadsky  earth
     Fawn and Terry Collett
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