In the sea of desks there was talk of bags and games
And long pipes that leak dreams
With the strike of a match
And there’s loudness to the whispers I hear.
Whispers shouldn’t be that loud,
There’s a boy over there that everyone knows,
And girls without ears stand at the door for a price.
In the long hallways there are angry mobs of dwarves and rats
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your face. i like it.