by copeland
i never stop feeling strange,
because you never know if you really change,
you can never tell if you're center-stage,
as thin as glass, and never meant to think,
and you never feel good or bad,
only strange and unprepared,
'cause i never see it coming or leaving,
no, i'll always never know.
[feeling a lot like that this past day or two]
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-im in ur gaia, ritin in ur jurnalz.-
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