Music under the skin

Moving to the beat of drums

On a desolate heart

Dancing on the tip of a thought

Blind to all but the refrain

That has been forged in the conscience

Of the young and the naive

Reminiscent of a time when

Adoring meditation of infatuation

Of the love not given recompense

The affliction of a gaze

Following an indiscriminate face


Knowing nothing but vapid silence

And tedious desire for more


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