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She treads so softly gossamer footsteps she's walking through me just like a ghost buried with two pence as passage paid where were you when only the shadows and ghosts were left?
In the dim light your eyes were like daggers and your smile was a knife in the back and now we are staring down alleys of gasoline hearts coupled with intangible untouchable skylines of your-and-I there is a faint whispering, a stench on the wind telling me that you have rotted away.
She treads so softly now gossamer footsteps and she's walking through me just like a ghost.