This isn't the way we planned. I wasn't supposed to forget your taste. Like nights spent figuring all the ways that we came to this place. Yeah. There we were, alone on top on your old rooftop in Highland Park. But ask me now. Say, "Chris, look out across the sky and tell me which way the wind blows." A core of coal, A core of coal and and starches is within me. But even now that you're not here I climb these mountains of houses ever night. I say your name and I wish I could have done things right.
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