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I am from metal chopsticks,From the filled bookshelves in my house.
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I am from the fragrant beds, as soft as wool,Beckoning towards me, temptation overcoming willpower.
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I am from the hot sun, burning through my skin.
I am from high quality summer camps,
Meeting new friends, and
I am from high quality summer camps,
Meeting new friends, and
Crying tears of sorrow as I have to leave them behind.
I’m from the fragile cans of sparkling water,
From bacon and eggs and cheese,
Tasting like my dreams.
From bacon and eggs and cheese,
Tasting like my dreams.
I’m from rice and noodles, familiar to the tongue.
I’m from the collaged walls,
Filled with photos of the past.
Each one a memory of the good times,
Which are now over.
Filled with photos of the past.
Each one a memory of the good times,
Which are now over.