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Untitled #12
I start to paint your portrait
and I cook your favorite meal
But the colors turned to mud
and the kitchen’s up in flames.
So I learned your favorite song
and I wore my good perfume
But my voice is never soft
and you hate the smell of rose.
and I cook your favorite meal
But the colors turned to mud
and the kitchen’s up in flames.
So I learned your favorite song
and I wore my good perfume
But my voice is never soft
and you hate the smell of rose.
