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A cup of cold coffee in the morning,
to the corner where she decorates dreams.
He’d always go down there when he was in town.
Down to visit the queen
in hopes she’d dance and sing.

Old lot, fresh lines, walk-in movie murder scenes
and talks about dreams
on a chipped paint picnic table.

He was in her element.
Like rocks and Kings and Queens,
everything will fall, but that doesn’t mean a thing.

It was the drive over there that got him
to the corner where he’d go to watch his dreams.
Always go down there ‘cause he loved her sound.
Down to talk with the queen,
to go out back and breathe.

Airport, wrong side, real life movie nerves, let’s sing
and talk about dreams
on a car ride. Dirt road, let’s go.

She sleeps in his head at night.
Life’s puzzles, Kings and Queens,
he sees so simply. Like love, it means everything.

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