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In october of 2019 i called a suicide hotline for the first time in my life
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Your Arms Are My Cocoon
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Letra
Cut through this clockwise fog I'm finding new substance in detail and waking up Embodied in reflective puddles and impulsive acts of clarity Why go home? Let go Dissolve into blossom I am the Beauty in the trees Kind blanket skies Tear through my Willing flesh and bone to dust In the wind In your skin Cloudless in melon-tinged sunsets And locked at the wrists
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