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Rose
I laid for you a bed of roses and you got mad at me,
'cause with the petals and candles and stems I'd left the thorns in too.
'Cause you said that I always had my head up in the clouds,
so with pleasure and all the rest I added pain for you.
I yell at you and you yell at me, but by the time we're through,
we're stuck together arms and legs all the long night through.
I will forgive you if you think that I am sick of this,
but I can tell you I can't ask of any more from you.
Is it so wrong that I get off-
that I enjoy our highs and lows?
Is it so wrong that I think you
are just the same and we're fucked together?
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