| I am but cloth, weak to the frost
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| Weak to the gleaming blade, weak to the moth
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| But brave on your skin, bright in its whims
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| An October wind is prevailing again
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| So, who will house my sentiment?
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| It comes in floods and runs me red
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| Rattling the dewy moss with my lost footsteps, and I’m not done yet
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| Kiss and kiss but can’t beget, and I’m not done yet
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| I am but cloth, weak to the frost
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| Weak to the gleaming blade, weak to the moth
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| But I’m brave on your skin and good in its whims
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| An October wind prevailing again
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| I’m a consort on holiday
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| (Do more of the same)
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| Browsing men and lingerie
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| (Do more of the same)
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| Rattling the morning lot with each new amulet, and I’m not done yet
|
| (Do more of the same)
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| Kiss and kiss but can’t beget, and I’m not done yet
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| Frock both catch and confound the candlelight
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| (Do more of the same)
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| I’ll stay, if only too afraid to hobble home tonight
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| (Do more of the same)
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| Dawn, rattling the morning moss with my lost footsteps, and I’m not done yet
|
| (Do more of the same)
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| Kiss and kiss but can’t beget, and I’m not done yet
|
| (Do more of the same)
|
| And I’m not done yet
|
| (Do more of the same, do more of the same)
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| I’m not done yet, I’m not done yet
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| I’m not, I’m not done yet |