domingo, 7 de mayo de 2017

Smoking women


Who joins us for a joint?
Would the moon tell?
She dances in the water,
Flies in the water
Hearts getting warmer
Hearts are getting warmer
For wine's slapping inside the glass that remained,
Then drowning in your throat,
(Don't let none go down)
Every time he thinks about his short life,
Both, infatuated.

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