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Out Of Reach
Steve

OUT OF REACH

Icy stems hold on from broken limbs

Shards and fragments

Particles of a past

Too sordid to sort through

Why don't you wipe the slate clean with me

Say hello with a smile on your face

Let your lips form the words I long to hear

But don't usher forth the sound

For chance the dream might die

Let your eyes be your lips

 

 

05/11/1997


Tags: love


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