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Rated: E · Monologue · Biographical · #2245165
Just a short poem, like always.
She was pretty, she was - youth,
living lies and not the truth.
Driving limos, expensive cars,
but all I had, were just guitars.
Loving her, I composed the songs,
I found the goods; I found the wrongs.
Now she's rich, but she's so lonely,
I have two parrots and they are lovely.
Being together, there's no ways,
all I count now, are her plays.
For both of us are lonely days,
thank you Deezer, at least she pays.


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