Red Rot

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woodsmen, woodsmen, and this isn't the trip i choose; should i build up guilt about not taking in gods creations while we drive across states and walk over mountains when it doesn't feel real to me with boats and gear and sweaty groans, at least we sound alive, while i can't lift my head to keep from tripping over what we've been given

why isn't it barefoot through fields at the top of cliffs while our horses run on the wind of songs of big adventures?

i know i am wrong but i cant put these pieces together

so i'll breathe you in without taking this back

1:27 a.m. - 2008-03-13

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