You know you'll never be lonely, no you'll always be loved
And maybe you never need more than that
But for the surplus that loves, what's to become of us?
Does it even register on your conscience?
Long for one last showdown from a box in a crowd
Air compressed tight to explode
I'm clenching my ticket to the only way out
As you disappear in a puff of smoke
It's a half life
With you as my quarterback
A daft life
- Imogen
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