Letters were all sent with no addresses
So that people can’t discover
Always undercover
Why do I always draw triangles
Instead of words this paper so deserves.
You see,
I don’t own my clothes but I own my mind
And it’s not what you’ve lost
But it’s what you find.
With that skipping rope, the trampoline
The crafty smoke that made us choke
But we didn’t give up hope
It’s just the simple ways, of getting paid
The carelessness of running away
I wish I stayed.
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