Lets see, how far we could be from the truth. I'll pull out your air, you'll tug on my underwear. You're eyes will scream, you're not letting them breathe. Pain falls under lust, I'm maid to clean out the dust.
No more chances, I'm tired of doing rain-dances. I'll fly you high, there'll be no one to watch you die. And I will run, the slave chariot burnt from the sun. I'll take no one, whisk away, won't sire a son.
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