on the other side of the continent
in the wrong part of the year,
bleeding ice-cold sunlight and
thinking about st maria and last blurry
fucked up days of dennis Wilson
waiting for the children to run away
waiting for judas and his
latest girlfriend and when he finally arrives
he brings a copy of
exile on main st and a bottle of wine
smiles and says the
brightest days are behind us
knows in his heart that there is no
end in this world to the list of
things not worth dying for
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