Yeah,
well, you're sick
But
are you as sick as the sun?
They
said the light
Was
a trick of the gun
Oh,
you can take your bullets
Wash
them down with wine
Ishka's
whiskey
Miss
me or the vine?
She
was sleeping by design
Horror
for the shine
Love's
true mercy
Now
we're sick of all the cock-back
And
the way you rack the slide
Decide
Love,
or priapism?
A
kiss beyond the blind
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