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3:11 a.m. MAG
I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me
You are only a child
discovering matches and I –
I have a paper body
You will meet a girl with softer hair
Hair that doesn’t knot at the ends
She won’t have a violent affection for green tea
or an obsession for collecting records that
she’ll never play
And her eyes will always stay dry
You will fall into her bed and I’ll go back
to spending time with boys who never care
to ask my last name
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