The Eames Era
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I Don't Mind

The Eames Era


And I don't mind that everything's a mess
Right now, I could care less
And I believe that a bit of harm never hurt anyone

I've plotted out the route to take us into a place
Kinda like where we're now
Except this time I think you're gonna need a pair
Of mittens for the frozen air

I would gladly navigate things
You look out for sharp rocks
But I do believe I've found that illusive Bering strait
And if you'd like to we could

So we'll sit there and stare into thin air
Light that match and watch it flare
And kiss hello to a ground laid with snow
Where nothing's left, but frozen air

There won't be any green or fear on trees
Or even below our frozen toes
But the tundras match the clouds at night
And on a clear day you can see next Saturday

Build our home out of snow
In the first glacier we find
But I do believe I've fallen into a nasty
Crevice laced with ice
So now what?

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