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Deafheaven
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Dream House (edit)
Hindered by sober restlessness Submitting to the amber crutch. The theme in my aching prose. Fantasizing the sight of Manhattan; That pour of a bitter red being that escapes a thin frame. The rebirth of mutual love
The slipping on gloves to lay tenderly
'I'm dying.' - 'Is it blissful?' 'It's like a dream.' - 'I want to dream.'
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