My feet have trod miles a million
I touch the flowers n cry when I kill them
I taste the sweet but I pucker at their Children
I sip the wine but the bitter bothers
And all the words I'd like to say get smothered
I gather the smoke the fire disperses
And I feel the pain that the lonely nurtures
And I cry too.
I touch the flowers n cry when I kill them
I taste the sweet but I pucker at their Children
I sip the wine but the bitter bothers
And all the words I'd like to say get smothered
I gather the smoke the fire disperses
And I feel the pain that the lonely nurtures
And I cry too.
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