Theres something here again, your pressence
starts sinking in, edges so rough you and me
I think we could fit quite nicely.
Weeks trickle into days, my time with you
is less than a few hours and seconds away.
We already meassure the world by the mark
we have made, a world as small, nothing is made
too strange.
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- at 1:36 AM on January 19, 2002
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