If it's 2 a.m., and if it's spring 2006, then I'm out for a walk to clear my thoughts on the streets of Los Angeles. I'm walking with angels, I swear--that is until you come chasing after me. You always felt like you had to protect me, so you'd ride your bicycle behind me following me and telling me that it's not safe and that I shouldn't be out this late by myself.
All the while I was telling you that I'm not safe, and you shouldn't be out this late alone with me.
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