The desert sun returns, your shoulders flush picking daffodils, race down the freeway into the valley like you're flying on clouds, everything is different now. He writes tentative questionmarks into the starry night but you're not looking for questionmarks, you're looking for firm handshakes and confident punctuation. In the rearview mirror, three years of dust dances, you know what it means. You have no time for kicking up anymore.
I'm making up for lost time. If you want to get on board, now is the time to know what you're doing.
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