| She had nut painted arms
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| That were hers to keep
|
| And in her fear
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| She sought cracked pleasures
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| The passion of lovers is for death said she
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| And turned to feather
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| And as i watched from underneath
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| I came aware of all that she keep
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| The little foxes so safe and sound
|
| They were not dead
|
| They’d gone to ground
|
| The passion of lovers is for death said she
|
| The passion of lovers is for death
|
| The passion of lovers is for death said she
|
| The passion of lovers is for death
|
| The passion of lovers is for death said she
|
| The passion of lovers is for death
|
| She breaks her heart
|
| Just a little too much
|
| And her jokes attract the lucky bad type
|
| As she dips and wails
|
| And slips her banshee smile
|
| She gets the bigger of the better to the letter
|
| The passion of lovers is for death said she
|
| The passion of lovers is for death
|
| The passion of lovers is for death said she
|
| The passion of lovers is for death
|
| The passion of lovers is for death said she
|
| The passion of lovers is for death
|
| The passion of lovers is for death said she
|
| The passion of lovers is for death |