Die a little
Why’s the first thing I see your lips,
And I find my hands running over your hips?
If I pulled the moon from the heavens,
Would you mouth those three words in sixes and sevens?
Could I,
Walk beside,
Your drops of sunshine?
Could you hold me near,
Over there and over here?
Know I would,
If you said we could,
But die a little within the arms of the other.
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