Wreak on me, perhaps i'm no good.
The siren... I beat myself against your thigh and spit
before leaving the woodshed.
Again and again,
You engraved me with the Cold and blank
behind your smile.
It was a deep down in those big black eyes
there was no expression at all.
From that moment and through everything that followed,
Hmm... Lonely boy's poem screwed up your day
She's no real trouble.
She smells a little velvet for me.
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