domingo, 23 de fevereiro de 2014



<<These are the days that are slipt down the middle, no words to calm her down.
Be sure that what you dream of won't come to hunt you out.
Where is my head? Where are my bones?
Why are my days so far from home?
Stand around at American weddings,
Stand around the families,
At my best when I'm terrorist inside.>>

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