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-Fever-
09/09/2004 @ 6:26pm
By:
gotometric

We’ll die here in our field of serpents
As temptation’s prisoners rot into jewels
So afraid to glance back
To that burning moment
When I once was whole
Before fate caught up with me
I’ll paint a thousand pictures
Without a single word
And swallow these hot bullets
With thoughts of you
Paper cut-outs and empty glasses
Remain the only presence here
Hold me back
Than plunge me through
Love’s victim bears no name
 
Copyright © gotometric, All Rights Reserved


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