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Ah to dream about death and destruction, What a damning trick of my mind, my dear. To look at my life and see the reduction Of it, to the beginnings; I see the fear Etched on you, bountiful smile My love Wipe that grimace away, it is not for us Don’t look at me like a thing from above. I cannot be that which you think I must. Draw me a line in the December dirt, And don’t be a John to my Marilyn. I want to believe that it didn’t hurt You, to twist the knife as I let it in. I’ve been getting ready for you for years Now is the time to put away my fears.
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Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
Ode to a refusal to love openly.
Ah to dream about death and destruction, What a damning trick of my mind, my dear. To look at my life and see the reduction Of it, to the beginnings; I see the fear Etched on you, bountiful smile My love Wipe that grimace away, it is not for us Don’t look at me like a thing from above. I cannot be that which you think I must. Draw me a line in the December dirt, And don’t be a John to my Marilyn. I want to believe that it didn’t hurt You, to twist the knife as I let it in. I’ve been getting ready for you for years Now is the time to put away my fears.
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Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
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