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Connor Zwetsch
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Candy Bars
No battle wounds, No forehead lines
Just way too much gas station wine
Lavished with love by our parents who care into
the eyes of authority we fearlessly stare
And lately time goes by so fast
So before, its dry razor glass
To the nights, so dark, we see all the stars
in a town, so small, that we call it ours
Whiskey and coke in our mason jars.
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