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9
You know what I know
It was never the cold
It was the texture really
Like vodka down your throat
It's the way you take it slow
Sly as the devil I know
Your lips stole my focus
Of where I am
What part of earth
And yet I heard them
Mock me if you will
But he was the object
Of my affections
Not the man trying to be sexy
Rather the icecream he got early
