caricatures of your wrecking ball gown in my mind all the time. i wannae in that damsel patterned alley where you go for a smoke. sorrow slow dances, the phones are lighting up. taking no chances, close but never close enough. . .
been watching cowboy films on gloomy afternoons, tinting the solitude. put on your dancing shoes and show me what to do; i know you’ve got the moves.
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