Poetry slow remix

You have a wound Madam

And a joy very old

This wound this joy

It touched me

I dislike poetry

I do not want to be saved by your fantasy

I'm willing to give it up for you Madame

At nightfall you will find beasts to replace your despair

Please confess your nightmares

I think I prefer clowns rather than thoughts in the air

You have such a wound madame

You have a wound madam

And a joy very old this wound and joy

It touched me

I dislike poetry

I do not want to be saved by the courtesy

I'm willing to give it up for you Madam

At nightfall you will find beasts to replace your despair

Let my hand in your hair

I think I prefer groans rather than sun in your stairs

You have such a wound madame

At nightfall you will find beasts to replace you despair

Let my hand in your hair

I think I prefer groans rather than sun in your stairs

You have such a wound Madame

At nightfall you will find beasts to replace you despair

Please confess your nightmares

I think I prefer groans rather than sun in your stairs

You have such a wound Madame