single
men sometimes fall behind
trouble
walking in front
guns
begin anything you sees
take
my fun rouge pickin’
a
woman the wife of an ill omen
white
with a ,lot of aggie sin
Older
than me like a mother
ordered
in a tidy life
buying
yellow teacup
they
play can’t wait to be lied about
give
way to natural good hating
impostors to knaves the things you stood and built
one
heap turn of your begging’s
a
word your heat long hold
exile
will virtue wake with common hurt
none
too much distance everything more
flatten
words with false promises
so
to make mornings bright
and
broken nights
fools
broken worn out tool
dealt
in lies
you
can dream
every
once in a while
pitch
and toss off all your wings
hold
on
if
all men count.
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