In a field outside of town. A place where s/laughter... was so close to our hearts.
The bar napkin diaries of Overland Park. Where the real party began in our chests and ended at the feet of heroes we have yet to define.
Side effects from all of the things that I swore I'd never do. Things that rhyme with goodbye, and remind me of regret.
Trying to get a head start on their conclusions. Jumping the gun so to speak, but we both know I won't. Your name is my password. Protected and on the other side of lips.
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