By Mark A. Garcia
My emotions pounding through
the door revolving stuck on you.
My emotions pounding through
the door revolving stuck on you.
The city wears a crooked smile
it's neon breath, it's frigid style.
Office buildings, bars and banks
sell everything for a twisted thanks.
My emotions pounding through
the door revolving stuck on you.
My emotions pounding through
the door revolving.
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