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Hey you, lime shirt. Buried in your book. Hey you, black shoes. Standing all alone. In twenty years off, I'll be twenty years old again.
So call me when you're home, or call me when you're stoned. I'll think of anything in the world or you on a town park window sill from June 'til fall.
Hey you, blonde hair. Nice observation. You said "August is too soon for leaves to be changing. In twenty years off, I'll be twenty years old again.
I'd like to thank you for showing me that life ain't indie movies, and I'm so sorry I get sad, but that's why Rose sings pop songs. Its just I hate to see you go, and I'm so fragile, oh you know. I'll just become one with the purple paint on your walls.
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