söndag 6 mars 2011

Sitting. (On the dock of the bay.)



Look like nothing's gonna change.
Everything still remains the same.
I can't do what ten people tell me to do.
So I guess I'll remain the same.

Sitting here resting my bones.
And this loneliness won't leave me alone.
It's two thousand miles I roamed.
Just to make this dock my home.

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