Velvet drums
They were ripped of silence
Veils of a green turf
Enchanted eyes
They were plucked out well
Cupid lenses
They wanted more
Thirsty fists
They juiced out skulls
Rigid metaphors
They cursed my mind
The pitch blend silks
They ironed out a weather
People and their pupil
It was all soaked in charcoal
Written in summer solitude
This song is lost in the middle
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