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One tenth of her. I feel her talking thru my stand-up hairs.
Which of you, or does he touch them, or is he daft.
It's hard boys. Alone and old, it's really like her, it wears her clothes, I might be, I might be.
But you're not me and you don't know I'm back in the mine. Don't be afraid my love for you to die.
It stands its ground as i stand mine.
The ex-flesh of the temperature, I'm just as beautiful as your light allows.
