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At the foot of a forest of dark hair |
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Is a door there and here comes the key |
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As the grammar of one finger |
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Forms a language of this ecstasy |
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Where the back of her neck |
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Meets the back of her leg |
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Meets the back of her head |
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Meets the back of her breast |
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Falling further into marriage |
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This love would need not shout its name |
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And as the missile learns its target |
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Where sediments should stay |
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As the back of your head |
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Meets the back of my leg |
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Meets the back of my head |
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Meets the back of your breast |
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Meets the back of our legs |
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Meets the back of our necks |
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Meets the back |
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The back and beyond |