A collection of sleepy song titles, jumbled into a what could possibly be called a poem. Possibly.
Prelude:
Honey bee, autumn leaves,
Bloodstream plasticities.
The blower’s daughter falling in love at a coffee shop
Beyond love,
From clouds (such great heights).
All my stars aligned
Grow up and blow away.
Unforgettable Aruarian dance.
You’ll never know all these things that I’ve done.
Not too late; just say when.
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