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paradoxical son
i like the way you start things, the way
you're always molding things to fit how
you feel (i hate how your fingerprints are
all over everything, how you've got to
infect everything with your parasite)
i want you to sway your hips,
to feel your lips, i want you to move
(your body ain't got you nowhere, babe)
i wish i could read you my poems, play
you my songs (i want to burn your guitar -
we'd light the whole world aflame)
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