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    We agreed this city was like a morgue
    You said we should liven things up around here

    This is red when paint the walls with fire and pools of cream
    This is my mouth with sharp silver teeth and our implausible dream
    These are the blues when sung to you by blue lips the likes you've never seen

    Continues after the ad

    Will the smoke leave us time?
    Or has someone extinguished your fire?
    Maybe you'd rather be left behind?

    This is how it sells when there is no product in the store
    This is how we enter when there are no handles on the door
    This is sleep when they remove the warmth from our little house
    This is how you glow burning there as quiet as a mouse

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