I'm still running after sleeping trains, panty runner - tired, weak and barefoot and I still hope to catch up with them somewhere, in some deaf or forgotten rut, to tell them their fake versions for my dreams that have left with them, who are lying on the lines and the streets, they do not care about me - they forget that it hurts. And then I'll go somewhere, under the sounds of a voluminous bell ring and I will no longer chase the life trains, everything here will leave, in my life-dream.
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