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some kind of voodoo |
your breath like cigar smoke in the fall air before snowfall puff puff rise and shine yours and mine- these moments, and no one else's i blink less than you do some kind of voodoo the gardens die the hunters fry their meat don't speak twill make us weak there are very few facts and emotions are not steady but whenever you are ready i'll take a kiss, a peck shipwreck your lips on mine- oh life is fine, today. |