introvertirse - wrists that smell of verbena | Текст песни

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• introvertirse
• wrists that smell of verbena

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could you see
that smoke from the grass
your songs like the wind
your heart is made from glass
who'll take your heart first
that violent man
or maybe the whistle
that whispers like bell

you're digging a grave
a dead flowerbed
to bury your innocence

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