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lyrics

The note it starts, I feel alone
Just one part, it’s me, my own
Fists are clenched, welling up
All things against, the tears are naught

We came down here to rest our feet
And now there’s nothing left to be
168th and 80th
All that work amounts to this?

…and now, here we are…

I guess we could have
Done better
…Not me, but you

It seems unfair to leave it all
But what have I done but stumble and fall
The badinage has kept me sane
My zenith passed, there was no pain

…and now, here we are…

All at once my eyes
Grow heavy
Miles, down, me
Miles, throw me

Now I wonder why I took so long
(No, don’t go away!)

credits

from The Morning After​.​.​. [EP], released April 5, 2013

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Tombolo Miami, Florida

Tombolo (n., pl. -los.) - A sandbar that connects an island to the mainland or to another island.

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