in the summer camp, down by the hillni'll get some time to thinknlaying down on the pier, throwing stones to the lakenone stone for everything that i really missnlike my dog and the crows and the smell of herenand i keep a very special pile ofnheavy and black and polished and weird and terrifying stonesnfor the nights when i missed youn(and even when i could still see you)nfor the sweet things you saidnthat i don't wanna know if they're truenfor you wearing my shirtsnand riding your bike in a warm nightnfor when we didn't even say goodbyenfor when i was stuck in the airportnwith amazing lightningsnkeeping the plane to the groundnand i wouldn't even call younfor th anger and the pain that we softly builtnfor th anger and the pain that we tenderly builtnfor th anger and the pain that we hug-ly builtnfor th anger and the pain that we hug-ly builtnfor th anger and the pain that we softly builtnfor th anger and the pain that we tenderly builtnfor th anger and the pain that we hug-ly builtnfor th anger and the pain that we hug-ly built