Likelovepoetry by 1997
Locked up, too much to keep.
I wanna feel you break, wanna hear you scream.
But you're as good as dead to me.
Burnt out, can't hardly speak.
She said, "Where'd you go?"
I said, "You look like poetry"
I am quite low and far too high.
Every time we fight, they know
(Backsliding all the way to the ground)
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