Facade Love

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She smelled like wet roses

With the weight of her words

Heavier than golden kisses.

 

In a pocket full of ashes,

We danced naked in vineyards.

She smelled like wet roses.

 

Our language was spoken in present tenses.

She lived for high standards,

Heavier than golden kisses.

 

With the voice of quaint cadences,

Her touch was rampant in orchards;

She smelled like wet roses.

 

Under stranger guises

We’re a couple of bastards

Heavier than golden kisses.

 

Caressing gentle faces

It was our final records.

She smelled like wet roses,

Heavier than golden kisses.

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