One tenth of her.
I feel her talking thru my stand-up hairs.
Which of you, or does he touch them, or is he daft.
It's hard boys. Alone and old, it's really like her,
it wears her clothes, I might be, I might be.
But you're not me and you don't know
I'm back in the mine. Don't be afraid my love for you to die.
It stands its ground as i stand mine.
The ex-flesh of the temperature, I'm just as
beautiful as your light allows.
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