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Jan 2017
Dropping bombs on your homes, make them catacombs
But maybe to some, that would make them feel right at home
But baby you ache, for a dose of that catamol
So I know you're awake, but I know you haven't got a soul
Craving that shake to your system
You say you don't miss him, but the world saw you kiss him
Got a ghastly way of thinking, a broken ism
The look in your eyes is eternally dim
As he cries, the tears seem to be sempiternal additionally
May it be, forever so to see, however it has to be
Straight from the catamol that you adore, all the way down to ecstasy
An ex to me, clocking the hours you came and left me
Whenever it was convenient, equal to a convenience store
Port & Starboard, in & out, I ought to deplore
André Morrison
Written by
André Morrison  26/M/United Kingdom
(26/M/United Kingdom)   
735
   Angel
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