well, here we are again.
only this time i'm rounding corners
and taking back
what i never knew i had.
i go past the rows of mourners,
and i rake the sand,
but how can i be sad?
i'll just back to the motel and pack.
i've left my eternal brand -
but i'm never the foreigner,
'cause i'm finally on track,
thinking this were never really this bad.
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