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I miss last June more than anything. Summer sun and the big tire swing. Nights spent late on the golf course. A bedtime that was never enforced. We'd bring pillows and blankets and books and pens.
Don't believe everything happiness says Nothing feels better than hiding these days We bury our fears in the drinks in these tears For the days we believed we could fly Call up your brothers and...
In our days, we'd dance under the moon, and pray to god for rain... Run like ants towards the sun, just cause it's warmth made us feel alive.