Rabbit, rabbit! I woke this morning with forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit running through my head like the stuck line of a song, which I'm not even sure what to do with. On the other hand, I also woke to a small black cat who crawled under the covers beside me and purred himself back to sleep, which feels like a better omen. The air and the light have changed just enough to feel like autumn, even on a drizzling day. Every year I observe it's the ghost-season, but that doesn't seem to stop it being true.
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- 1: That gossip's eye will look too soon
- 2: I left my mind behind in 2015
- 3: Your spirit watched me up the stairs
- 4: Am I just a phantom waiting to be ripped around on shady ground?
- 5: 'Cause your eyes are the green of tornado skies
- 6: Once you've gone, remains the question, baby
- 7: Does it seem slow to rain? Does it feel like soft moss?
- 8: Now let's listen to a conversation between two English actors on the subject of Warships Week
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