The chipped black polish on my toes. It paints a picture of our foes. Oh how I wish, they were pink today.
And the way we shed our clothes haunts me like nobody knows. All these things, thay stand in my way.
One day we'll look back and we'll see, our love the symphony. Buty you and I were just percussion.
Vulnerable. Quiet rooms. You were one I had to lose. I bet you never felt this way.
You are a swan song, bound to go wrong. I could've stayed.
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