There’s a special hustle spirit in someone who will endure not only a marathon of spontaneous dance routines, but do so in the early summer humidity of the Big Easy
Four years old
All you wanna do is ride around
Another place to hide it all
One last breath ’til the tears start to wither
find a place inside your heart and hide away
So don’t run from it.
Run with it.
This is not an act and this performance is not for you
I’m coming home
but don’t mistake for broken
“I’m yellow he is blue it’s nothing we that could hide we made a green meadow whenever we would collide”
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