It was hard at first. Then you forget about familiar faces. Then you forget their names. Then you're stuck holding on to what's there.
When we first set off, we were only nineteen, on the road to no one knows just yet. We were sure we'd find a different place to call our home every couple hundred miles or so. Can we stop holding on to what's left?
It's better to be out here than stay inside and never try. It's better to get lost in your dreams than get lost in someone else's life. Even the faint applause is better than nothing at all, even if you have to say goodnight tomorrow or tonight.
It was hard at first, then you forget about familiar comforts. Then you forget y---- home
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