Far and far gone in
imaginary conversations
fretting did I step too far
reveal private intimations
frankly I was led astray
by the cut of the blouse
oh what a plaster saint
oh what a louse
I'm only human then
I bleed when I'm cut
I get my hackles up
I mutter huh and what
not happy with the hole
imaginary soup to nuts
but what I have to work with's
all I have to fight these ruts
what
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