| escape from bed,
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| With how good I was with your cinnamon stick kisses,
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| With your sun that oozes like foam,
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| But go, prepare the dump,
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| That I turn on and roll very flamenco down the stairs,
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| Like a wind blow, like a vine.
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| This kid will never get to n,
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| They whisper to each other as they pass
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| And it is that I suck my life in three cals,
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| The first sets fire to the mattress,
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| The second turns all the weather vanes,
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| The third is sweeping the gutters of my heart.
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| And love enters, skinny and wet,
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| Like a fish bone
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| Like a kiss held up to the light,
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| And from his hand you arrive, with your hair like bitumen,
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| Like a well thrown compliment,
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| It's like getting off the train,
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| Although when I'm with you, red wine runs through my veins
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| And getting out of your navel isn't worth it,
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| for what? |
| To find myself lost?
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| To roll like the pebbles of the river roll into the sea?
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| To find your world?,... For that I already have mine This child is going to disintegrate us
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| They whisper to each other as they pass
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| And it is that I put my life in three limes,
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| The first entrenches itself in a corner,
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| The second one is doing me less damage,
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| The third is climbing the steps of my heart.
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| And love enters, skinny and wet,
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| Like a fish bone
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| Like a kiss held up to the light,
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| And from his hand you arrive, with your hair like bitumen,
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| Like a well thrown compliment,
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| There is no romance or flower that festers love living in a vase,
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| The rosemary bushes cannot be watered with shakes with salt,
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| They will die for no reason, almost like the smell of greenhouses,
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| The real stems should not be broken... No... |