Maclean
When words scratches your throat too much, it hurts so bad, you just have to sing them...
... and then, from god only knows where, there's that voice you hear again, that voice from when you were staring at the rising sun over the downtown park... on the bench... your head still spinning wildly...
As you walk along back, you hear her from far inside...
As the sun peaks on the day, you just close your eyes to see that voice better.
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