"Dedicated to the Peter Pan that never really dies but goes on a vacation in all of us"
But everyone knows where it ends,
Three-sixty-five is a big number they say,
That's the risky game I've played.
Twenty-Nine times over till my insides are no more,
I have gone from a man to a whore,
And when I finally find my peace,
A place to put my mind at ease,
All that will accompany to my place of rest,
Is the dust I have gathered beneath my bed.
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