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Apr 2016
My feet planted to the ground
but my consciousness in the sky
my senses are on fire, so are my eyes
I want to tell you something
tell the world something but I can't spit it out
I hope I never come down
the ceiling is singing, my ears are ringing
and I hope I never exist
I hope there's nothing I miss
an elevated shoulder of bliss
which will not deny me the right
to slowly die
Cloyd
Written by
Cloyd
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