meadow fresh full of children

Standard


me and all these children
– we’re running around in freakin circles
– and the autumn air is correctly fresh

there is no game that we are playing
these freakin kids don’t realize that
we’re supposed to have a goal
– to have a challenge
– to have a standoff of some sort

they just run and laugh like freakin idiots
I get caught up in it
– the madness of it
– O’ my shoes get stupid grass stains




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