“You might even be exactly like me. You just don't seem…” — On a Dark, Cold Night at 3:34
“You might even be exactly like me. You just don't seem like it all the time. But I can see it now. Even through the door. I can smell the scent of longing and curiosity and confusion and wonder. Even through the thick, carved wood between us. So why not just open the door? I'm sorry, you're just fine where you are. I…”
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