The memories are swirling in my head. Left-overs from Portugal, from Shreveport, even from good ol' Billy Jewell. I need one of them to tell me what to do. To tell me it'll be okay. I've been waiting all week to crash from exhaustion. I guess this is the night.
Was your journey far too long? All the voices that are spinning round me, trying to tell me what to say...
Can I fly right behind you? You can take me away...
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