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Old boy
The silence begins to be loud.
The sun feels so cold.
Red wine tastes like blood.
The dead are breathing heavily.
Moving but I can't feel your heartbeat.
The weekends short.
Save me the trouble.
Pour me a glass of wine.
With blood spilled,
I...
The sun feels so cold.
Red wine tastes like blood.
The dead are breathing heavily.
Moving but I can't feel your heartbeat.
The weekends short.
Save me the trouble.
Pour me a glass of wine.
With blood spilled,
I...
