under the blue moon light,
and with eyes shut tight,
fall in love, we just might.
and as the wind they blow the smoke,
we'll jest at scars and laugh at jokes.
ah i tell you my sweetest,
we can blow on our thumbs and postures,
but the lonely is such delicate things.
the wind from a wasp can blow it,
right to the sea,
with stone on it's feet,
lost to the love and the light that we all need.
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