Love Like Salt

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Sometimes words fall off me in no particular order...

I treated you like king of all men,

you handled me like back alley whore,

never mind, you're probably right...

it's not your fault you're so cold.

 

I flew your kite high and straight,

you bled my heart sap dry, mate,

never mind, I'm probably wrong...

I asked for sugar you passed the salt.

 

The Peruvian Sage

 

 

 

 

 

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