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Sarabande Slang
I love your gray eyes
They’re like marmorean skies
I want you as my cloudy bride
Dressed in cerulean herbicide
You’re so pale when you’re red
You’re so angry when you’re sad
You install me mad
You make me feel all right
You’re the yin and I’m the bang
Sixteen shells of sarabande slang
Yet you’re colder then fire
And you burn me like a lyre
I can’t help but admire
How much you distaste me
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