Jack Conte. Starlight. Zeneszám

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So you thought you had your mind glassed up in a jar? Clear and cut and dry but dipped a bit in tar. And you?re hoping for a troll to rob you of your gold and burn your lovely home and keep you from the starlight. Current in your hands and a trembling in your back; doubt your hopeful can, and crystallize to lack. And the sun will shine at the edge of time, but not until you?re done