| This is the story of your red right ankle
|
| And how it came to meet your leg
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| And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled
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| And how the skin was softly shed
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| And how it whispered
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| «Oh, adhere to me
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| For we are bound by symmetry
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| And whatever differences our lives have been
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| We together make a limb»
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| This is the story of your red right ankle
|
| This is the story of your gypsy uncle
|
| You never knew 'cause he was dead
|
| And how his face was carved and rift with wrinkles
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| In the picture in your head
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| And remember how you found the key
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| To his hide-out in the Pyrenees
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| But you wanted to keep his secret safe
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| So you threw the key away
|
| This is the story of your gypsy uncle
|
| This is the story of the boys who loved you
|
| Who love you now, and loved you then
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| And some were sweet, and some were cold and snuffed you
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| And some just laid around in bed
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| Some had crumbled you straight to your knees
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| Did it cruel, did it tenderly
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| Some had crawled their way into your heart
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| To rend your ventricles apart
|
| This is the story of the boys who loved you
|
| This is the story of your red right ankle |