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Ten years to the day Waves crashed like gongs And the sirens played In the froth singing their songs Nightingale lady Nothing is ever ok The pressing of power takes me away And there is no way I can stay A breath of fresh air takes her To a place of sin and cater Cold blooded wind weaves through her hair Holding five cards, she shows a pair Now take my hand And show no fear in your face For the lace that I have given you Is not dark purple, but burgundy blue These windows are fogged up No one around here knows my name Across the yard, the rivers are boiling As lover's intertwined clash in coiling Take your time with your hasty prayers Keep your head down to avoid their stares My shoes are shined and my watch is whined Through the fog, the sun shines through the pines Emptying courage from my flask I see no face that I can ask The time, the place, the hour to meet A lover who said I was hers to keep Agatha parsley trees burnt by ember All eyes fall on the coming month of September Wishes fall from the sky like rain As the cackling **** spins his golden cane
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Sun Through the Palm Trees
Ten years to the day Waves crashed like gongs And the sirens played In the froth singing their songs Nightingale lady Nothing is ever ok The pressing of power takes me away And there is no way I can stay A breath of fresh air takes her To a place of sin and cater Cold blooded wind weaves through her hair Holding five cards, she shows a pair Now take my hand And show no fear in your face For the lace that I have given you Is not dark purple, but burgundy blue These windows are fogged up No one around here knows my name Across the yard, the rivers are boiling As lover's intertwined clash in coiling Take your time with your hasty prayers Keep your head down to avoid their stares My shoes are shined and my watch is whined Through the fog, the sun shines through the pines Emptying courage from my flask I see no face that I can ask The time, the place, the hour to meet A lover who said I was hers to keep Agatha parsley trees burnt by ember All eyes fall on the coming month of September Wishes fall from the sky like rain As the cackling **** spins his golden cane
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
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