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you can tell she must have been through it. to be able to sing like that. dragging bags behind her through her streets, eleven years after the fact.

blessed is the man who awakes before us and cleans up what the night left behind. in the depths of the gutter and shadowy blue, my shattered heart and your lost mind.

and with all the subtle glances we make in church on sunday, we smile away the subtly of our saturday night beds. fold our hands and we pray for something new. with every new day we're given, we still don't know what to do.

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