Das Man told me would be something: the world wide open in your hands. You gotta understand–I take the long way around sometimes. Coasting cold breeze whistle the bike-rack, Headington late night (feels like so long ago). Can’t help but wish I was there sometimes it seems my life has already peaked, and now it’s twenty-three burdened by the wait of routine, routinely worried where the worry will lead, or where it’s leaving me. Sunlit lanes, lit face is keeping me awake; bask in rays, in case the past won’t give and take. Who could forget trekking through Tom Quad?
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