You understand the beautiful and the damned, because you have held both attitudes in plasticity. You doubt doubt, which has brought you this far. You work like the devil likes you, and you have seen war in the likes of your living room. Unsure of uncertainty, you thread with a comfortable grin above your heartstrings. Afraid of clapping, you seek to disguise that guy. When the game gets strong, you get louder, and braver, and cooler. I know you, the same adventure sought me deep into the wells of Melbourne. But you are safe, because you have the wild heart of an explorer. Have you heard of Michio Hoshino? That guy. He was surrounded by a choral of Alaskan beauty, and loved them all with his camera. Sadly he was eaten by a brown bear, who shall remain unnameable for the time. I would have personally killed that bear. Anything for a story, the brave shouts of the hills, the coronge of delight. Our menage a relation amicale, we are the moveable feast. We fight for liberties. The prize is Sunday. You have aching tears on your shoulders, bruises on your feet, shock to your soul, and my promise was a saga. In our native life, we loved, and now, we understand. You are real, and so am I; it was only the surprise that got us. My back collapses when you hurt. You inspired me to find the cosmos within us. In return, I yell at the voices. I’m the piano man, and you have my keys. Tender is the night.

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