i take this gun out of mouth and point it right at you
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licking warm blood - off of soft lips
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caressing the cold - stiffened idea of love
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inhaling her beauty - her encompassing scent
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soft rain - drowns out the light
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lightly pressing - lustful fingertips
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upon her lips
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ice cold lips - that seem to whisper back
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sweetened songs of seduction - stop
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shallow pools of paling blue reside in her eyes
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slowly fading, being washed away by warm tears
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so slow, so quiet
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wash away the dried blood on her lips
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wash away the memories of his cold embrace
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Eyes of an Angel
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The Seventh Gate (The 7th Gate) |