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Spraynard
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Thrillhouse
this picture is gathering dust, so every few years i'll brush it off
along with the memories of all the friendships i've held so close to me
it's getting warm outside, so maybe i'll meet you underneath the highway
and we can shred the concrete until our arms are weak from lifting each other up
i forget everything that you said when you told me not to talk to strangers,
now these people seem so different
every kid that gave us food and a makeshift bed;
we hope you know it means everything to us.
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