Mais poesia, menos angústia.
Whitby
Seaside, apart from me
I tell you what you don't wanna see
Sheltering your memory
Anywhere inside
I also haver things to hide
I know you're found of them
But we can't extend
All thst is meant to die
Is this a goodbye?
We're wrong in one or another way
That's ok, that's ok
There's nothing else to say
Time to feel and feel
Be it joy or dismay
Nothing more to say
Feel joy or dismay
Feel
While staring at the sea
Your eyes gaze me
The surf washes us
And we are free
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