Will you please pour me some love?
Last years' harvests have been most dreadful
and I'm growing ever bitter from this long draught...
Won't you tell me a wonderful story?
All these drunk fairytales have been most sad
and I'm growing ever tired of these fake promises.
Pour me some love - this crimson poison tends to colour
all your lies heavenly blue.
Some more love, to drown this winter in its warmth.
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