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Where there used to be a wax-candle |
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Blowing in the rhythm of a mind inside a man |
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Working in the shadows of a midnight land |
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Where words were sealed with feathers on |
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Rough papers like a symbol of the present |
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Madness and its demand this absence |
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Is more than |
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I can handle in lack of a |
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Seveninch candle desperately waiting for a |
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Woman to abuse me and amuse me with sharpened |
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Fingernails - thorns in modelled trance |
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I would like to crawl underneath your |
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Skin revel in forbidden and ferocious |
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Sin touch your breath feel the |
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Satisfaction - there is nothing like a stunning |
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Piece of nighttime attraction we would |
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Bring in some species of nature - if you |
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Were closer now - throw them right |
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Across this room - if you were closer now (???) the laws no words upon our lips - |
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If you were present now - celebrate our |
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Presence until now - |
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I feel you're closing in somehow |
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Join in - the mysteries of heaven |
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Miserable, optional doors maybe sell |
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Our fortune to a devil on the way |
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Abusement that turn us into slaves |
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A song about the words so commercially |
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Despised - prostitution trapped them in a |
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Corner of my life - lines |
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Though I know a place where |
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They still can be written down and |
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Blossom like only spring can do when winter |
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Has been around |
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So come with me and |
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The pleasures of mine - we'll walk the |
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Drawn fields, expose the secrets of life |
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There is no simple desire |
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Only harvesting of your rare fruit |
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To many words |
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I cannot put words to |
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To many movements |
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I cannot hide |