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Sunny-Sunday-Soup
02:57
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You lived your life between Sundays and it shows, pouring bowls of liquid love for all I know. Are you there? Are you there? I’m sitting by the door waiting for you to walk through. His eyes glowed like fire and I’m trembling and you say ‘It’s OK, it’s OK, you’re all grown up, love.’ and you dance with the wind and I know what you mean. We’re on the local swimming team. I’d rather walk from one end to the next, than the cold and the wet, but it is love that keeps me steady and good things ahead. It takes sixty years of patience and in the meantime we could build ourselves a little house by the seaside, where pirate ghosts and fishes whisper and hum softly along to our songs.
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At the end you meet your audience, the ones who’ve seen it all. Nothing can be kept behind the stage. With faces pressed against the glass and flowers in their arms, you’ll never be alone another day. Every thought projected from your spine, through your spectral crown. A new set with the same old script, your fate an endless trial, waiting for your cue to take a bow. All great actors lose themselves in time, live their lives alout. A wish for you, a kiss for you, a million days of bliss for you. You’re a real star now.
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