these days of sorrow intersecting every track,
these days are a mark on the line of us fadin’ out.
days of intercourses and reprobation of ourselves
and every sketch is painting me and you while we were parting ways.
these days of contrast bordering our shapes,
these day will detach us from each one’s plain surface.
days of intercourses and reprobation of ourselves
and every sketch is painting me and you while we were parting ways.

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