If an aching bouquet of thorns
Is what you desire
Then i'll go to the desert
And learn there how to get sore
If you are into poems
But only the ones that in stone are written
Than i'd live between the capes
And on the rocks i'll compose
And then when we'll cover ourselves
With the sand in the dark
The book of Deuteronomy
Will grimly cover itself
Talk to me in words
That are better than cry and happiness
I Assume he loved me,
That man
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