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Piccola

-- I want to be on the other side of the sea; you’re all I see. I left but it isn’t right how my own flight has drowned me. My thoughts turn back to how your arms covered mine as we slept side by side and as much as I hide as much as I've sighed as much as I've tried to leave you behind your drum beats again as I pace down the road with two broken bones and a rib that you've cracked Will you still be here when I come back?