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I dreamed about killing you again last night. And it felt alright to me. Dying on the banks of Embarcadero skies. I sat and watched you bleed. Buried you alive in a fireworks display. Raining down on me. You cold, hot blood ran away from me. To the sea…
there is only one person that frequents my dreams in such matter (you know who you are). i think it’s time to shelf the sopranos, as i refuse to stop listening to wilco.