Samsonite, shimmery yellow white
We live in a cabin
We know all the secrets
Any day now the woods can find us
Chop chop away, son
We have an arms length ahead
Free flow below
Frosty tides
Anchor here for the night
Nobody heard the mundane words
Also in a reel of restless greatness
Alas, she sinks beneath
Vastly innate to the sinking ships
Good morning, night
Tomorrow carries over
Slavic rust and spiders
We don't resound a single notion.
Let it go ahead
From, found
Ahoy
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