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Do carry on with your perfect plans.
Just remember to turn the lights on when you go, hand-in-hand.
In the seminal hours left,
I hope you finally feel the things that I know I won’t

I’m still here with the wooden heart,
That seems to wouldn’t ever part

I’m waiting for a spark
That hasn’t happened yet

But when?

An alteration of Jakob Dylan’s Here He Comes (Confessions of a Drunken Marionette)