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Threatening us with guns
They think I'm a freak
I'm chained against a stone wall
Never will I speak
They raise the whip,
So I squeeze my eyes shut, tight.
Now I hear it rip.
Feeling the first sting
The skin splits wide open,
Leaving a red ring
I must not tell.
The pain is unbearable
I must never tell.
They whip me, no mercy
I start to lose consiousness
They'll never get me
I USED to miss you.I used to miss you.
I remember you and I,
Laughing like there was no time.
My a dream turned into a nightmare.
When I realized.. You. Didn't. Care.
Did you see through my smile?
Breaking up was worthwhile.
Now that we are nothing more,
The gash in my heart is all stitched up.
I've found someone I adore,
So don't come running for me, Buttercup.
Never look for me again,
Unless you want a door in your face.
Try and catch me if you can,
You'll just end up with a neck brace.
Like I said...
I USED to miss you.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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