Those times, all those times
so many, long-gazing up with my big eyes
and i was a child in a play that we'd set
two runaways and you couldn't get enough
all those times
in your attic house
with the voices below and banging
drifters at the door
i would sit on your old couch
in my hideout, while you went out
with your albums stacked on the floor
an old blanket keeping me warm
in that deep Fall
we built lies to fit the role
my world crumbling below
it couldn't have been wrong
i never once said it was wrong
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