November 7, 2011
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I sit here on your bed stand
And I tell you when to wake
As my music starts to play
You look into my face and groan
And wish that my hands
Would move slower

Then you leave me
To just sit
And wait for you to return.

When you do you walk straight passed me
To your desk
And you begin to work
You glance at me often
Wishing my hands
Would move faster

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