The Blend
This small town will be our end
Don’t you know that these walls
See and tell, these vibrant facades
I saw you dance and fall
Trappings of a time old
To the blare of a song loud
I saw not the lips that pouted
Till they touched mine
November might have been cold
But my embers were kindled
And as the wind blew,
You and I closer drew
Till the walls no longer knew
The dance floor of lips
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