Nights of summer, forbidden evenings
We snuck behind passairellos,
And yes I remember the name of the itallian restaurant we never entered.
My stomach was empty, yet pasta sauce churned it's roasted tomatos
Around, and around, and around, in my body.
Through a dirty, faded alley
And you pressed yourself into me,
But this hidden misconception of love,
Were the last precious moments you would see of me.
It was something like having my chest carved out,
With a dull screw driver, jabbing into my ribs, and heart,
I told myself it was ok.
But I never told you that when you flit through the branches and sticks,
And looked back with a quick sorry,
You had to go, you're mother was tap, tap, tapping her high heeled manicured toes,
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