d e a r s e u n
H O M E
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A L L W R I T I N G
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A R C H I V E D Y O U T H
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M O T H E R S H I P
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Closest friends (minus four)
Our teeth stained with red wine,
My lips tainted by the cheap colour
That I save for the nights
I want to be older than I feel
We sit on a corner of the square,
Right at the top just where
All and none can see and hear us
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