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Shadows on the wall |
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Shadows in the depth of his face |
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Shadows taking everybody's place |
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Paris was a young man, he wore his hair up in a trick |
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He quit the house made of roses and rose flavored spit |
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Paris with a dagger on his mind and romance in his hand |
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Tough and hard, in the yard, now nothing but a stranger in a strange land |
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Socrates in swaying the youth away |
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Branches thick with heat and syrupy decay |
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Picks up a book commands him to read |
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"The part where he kisses him on the roof" |
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Breaking dawn, woe be gone, hit the dope |
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And hope they become pure and aloof |
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Paris glittering in the war forced to compete |
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They all tried to bully him, buy him, score it for cheap |
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Hungry boy, he's a wolf, falls down, and bricks a sheep |
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Says, "you're gold for a moment but gold |
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Isn't anything you can keep." |