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We're All Tired HereMy old clothes don't fit like they used to,
They hang loose like a noose in this broken picture frame around my neck.
I'm walking down this little road to this little diner
In this little town where dreams go to die, where the train of thought wrecks.
I'm standing in the middle of the paved path feeling the heat through the soles of my shoes
Because I'm so fucking cold while the sky in this little town sings the blues.
No one else sees the clues even though the notes are falling from the skies like they're falling in love with the ground.
This town is such a poetic sound.
A million poems hide under the roads
And in the basements of abandoned homes if anyone cares to listen,
But no one wants to listen to the sweet words caught on the tip of my tongue.
The food here leaves a sour taste, but breakfast is served all day
Because no one in this little town wakes up.
You can see the sleep in their eyes as they pass by,
But we're all tired here.
The waitress sighs. She says "Sit wherever you l
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More