That melodious music and the front lip and the hulu skin and the silicone breast in my throat
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That night and dinner and dinner ُ and Shamloo poetry and wine and jam in my pen
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That sushi and the phone and the mouse of your doll and the car that you carry in my throat
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That Beethoven CD and your wide-ranging painting
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That modern dance and walking is like a fashion
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That foreign accent and unread book
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That Daddy and Mommy told you in my throat
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That foreign trip went down my throat
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I did not see you down town in my throat
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You closed everything in my throat
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From your friendship with all famous people and
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From photos in Dubai, Malaysia with cocktails and swimsuits
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From the intellectual game bottle and party switch
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From white poetry caused by acid and LSD
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From several of Aghasi and Javad Yasari
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From the sense of catching a dog with Pavarotti's voice
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You ate dirt from the piano at home
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From the guitar hanging in the kitchen
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From meditation class and dry las in yoga
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From the disgust of the hawk and the poetry of Bega Mega
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From the mouth of Kajit to Gilak, Turk and Kurdistan
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You are one Iranian and the rest are city dwellers
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You eat beef stroganoff, I'm a jerk
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Holding your lips in a kiss is the same for me
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I am a mix of people who are poor and poor
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I'm the voice of my village, this is my class
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I am a mix of people who are poor and poor
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I'm the voice of my village, this is my class
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My voice is not the sound of these vomit forms
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No mourning, no sorrow, no wandering in the garden
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You do not see how heavy it is this time
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One day I will say goodbye
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You do not see how heavy it is this time
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One day I will say goodbye |