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deepundergroundpoetry.com
High Tempo
Jacking it in,
racking it up
Let thirst be number one
I'm first for showing you
my hiding place
where your sin be found
sacred on the tip of my tongue.
Lay me down, standing me up
touch what you want, spread me
dripping
hitting the ground
running a beat
heat
hot sweat
melting
sweet flavoured
you and me
high tempo's
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