And her black curls flutter, gently in the night
She rambles, in volumes of slurry words
Smiling with her lips, behind the teal pillow
It's twenty past two, and the night seems too young
Yet in her her head, the morning bell has rung
As she lights up another blunt, she wishes time would pause
And maybe by a chance, the sun would keep the dark
She knows too well, that in a few hours from now
She would head home with half a mind
And then she would wait for another dawn
To find the other half she assumed was lost
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