Bless that old off-color publication
Bless your looks the night in question
You the impostor born elusive
And I… I was only being lucid
(Yet) I could sense your sense of suffocation
Oh shameless palace of perplexion
You were to blame for leaving
Or maybe not, cause I was leafing
You´d revamp me in the mornings
Till I played the fool one evening
You´re my ex-post-facto.
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