At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. Wood—and after him came his daughter. Let me make your future for you. No one will ever love you as I love you now.
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