Of all the acts I’ve played,
maybe but three were worth
a memory; worth counting.
maybe but three were worth
a memory; worth counting.
You my dear, are forgotten;
lost to my denial that we
may have acted as one.
lost to my denial that we
may have acted as one.
A glorious pit fills my empty
stomach when a scene of you
on top of me begins
stomach when a scene of you
on top of me begins
to unfold so disastrously,
much like the actual events;
much like the actual events;
You lasted but only a minute.
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