When you leave us through the patient doors
That rattle in you ear will be the sound of our applause
raptuous, considered and due.
Oh the nasty laughter and desperate smirks
are tangled in the boredom where out brittle kisses lurk
well how can i believe you, when you can't believe your luck
and the shardes of past attraction lie visible
but shy and blunt and weak and worn
away by whining in the emery paper
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