After dressing a pack of flyblown sonnets I am
Taking a breather tonight like the fox of desire
I catch
wind of your highborn scent and I’m off
Sprinting
through these flea-bitten songs these
Pelts
of schmaltz O listen to the wind behaving so
Obviously
empty I have a very ancient ailment
And
mean it so come a little closer it’s catchy
I
don't ask for much just that we avoid misery
And
that you test your lungs by running here
With
me a harrowing task yes for one who must
Cough
a lot from the sooty ambiance of glamor
I
know you only truly breathe in dreams come on
Slip
into your most comfortable skin the pelage
You
wear when you prowl the narrow streets
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