FLTS :: You write such pretty words

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Lover I Don’t Have To Love :: Bright Eyes

Now it’s two o’clock,
the club is closed we’re up the block,
your hands on me,
I’m pressing hard against your jeans,
your tongue in my mouth,
trying to keep the words from coming out,
you didn’t care to know,
who else may have been you before

Fucking love this song Friday

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