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chapter three: grow up in a city full of smoke


tryna follow dreams but nobody really cares

i see all this from the summit of a mental rooftop
i’m alone in the world
to see is to be distant / to see clearly is to halt / to analyze is to be foreign
no one who passes by touches me / around me there is only air
i’m so isolated I can feel the distance between me and my suit
i’m a child in a nightshirt carrying a dimly lit candle and traversing a huge empty house

18 tracks
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