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Again, the same type, perhaps I should not write so depressivly. |
| We dance, You and I, Writhing against each other, Soft sighs fill my Ears, you confess your love to me, I slip, teetering on the edge of a Nightmare and a dream, Happy once, with this place in out life, Now I can only smile this bitter smile Pushing away, I Dance alone Moving on the edge of the razor. |