You and I will meet. A century of kisses
start the year zero of the first embrace.
That day, both going to die
veins. Or who knows
mouths again be
girls with faces on.
To love, and the beginning of the world, there will be an eclipse
words and silent death for us
sing the wedding march. We are probably
stones
but we will meet again and your hands pottery
will undress my waist at sea.
We're not going to play.
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