daytime europa stuff
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Carved out by the clouds in your guts
In Jokerman font
Season of witch
Year of mickey mouse
I cuddled up with a thought
In the image of god
The kind that you fuck
But we just talked
Last glance to feel at home
Hopeless with quarters to lend
Like sort of a friend
Or probably should've been
Margaret or something
They laughed right into my mouth
And silenced their phone
That chance was sewn
But I heard they're gone now
Last glance to feel at home