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all the words get blurred withall the ways she said i don't write letters back home anymore i just hide my heart in the bottom of what i thought you might do if i loved you like all yr friends do. but i give up. all ways of past, are meant to be refernce points, not what i was, where i am, not where i will be, who i am now. i send back all yr eyes crossed out with hearts and stars. time is just a river, we just rest in motion.