Which Story You Told

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I don’t remember which story you told
An obnoxious frustration that won’t leave
Your words were too sweet and foreign and bold.

I really don’t recall the tale you sold
The intricate rage that I still can’t weave
I don’t remember which story you told.

I fight a feeling that never grows old
A battle that leaves me weak and naïve
Your words were too sweet and foreign and bold.

I sometimes feel free but lo and behold
I still weep tragedies during the eve
I don’t remember which story you told.

It’s kind of silly, and I’m kind of cold
I still treasure something I can’t believe
Your words were too sweet and foreign and bold.

I got your letter, I took it to fold
As you expose my laughter up your sleeve
I don’t remember which story you told
Your words were too sweet and foreign and bold.





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