deepundergroundpoetry.com
The new
You think I touch wood and it turns to gold
A warm sense of chaos and confusion
touches my lips and I bow down
Down I go, I cave into this feeling
It’s strange to be touched so gently
In a world that has not been so kind ever before
A warm sense of chaos and confusion
touches my lips and I bow down
Down I go, I cave into this feeling
It’s strange to be touched so gently
In a world that has not been so kind ever before
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