Where I collect the found and the lost.
The sky turned red as the sun fell into the Pacific, falling for some and rising for others.
Run to me or away from me.
The rain came and went, and all it left was a poor reflection of her.
On the outside, trying to get in.
The wrong way…go back.
The word will never die.
Tell me all, light, darkness, I won’t look even if it makes me fall.
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