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Hallucinogens.

My guitar has no strings and that makes it hard to play. I've lost faith in what sparks all my passion like the faithful when they learn all the pleasures of sinning.

May I kiss you dear?

'Cause I've been seeing you in my dreams, but just barely.
You'll sit in the corner of the pub with an ice tea in hand, and you'll be flirting with some attractive woman with a heavy southern accent; we'll make eye contact for the breifest moment and then I continue on with my life.

But I remember you; you are defined. You're ingrained into my being.

Baby, you're so much more than ordinary.
Written by rubearh
Published
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