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I Can't Control The Brush

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A petal
On
My shoulder
inkseepsintoit
No longer a pink
But a

D
R
  I
   P
    P
     E
      D

Nightmare
Black

It drifts away
On
a clear breeze but
inkseepsintoit
And a trail of

D
R
  I
   P
    P
     I
      N
       G

nightmare
Paints the land
Black

I can't control
The brush.




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