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maybe when we get there we can fill the place up
with whatever soft stuff is sparkling between us
maybe when we go home we will lose our voices
just talk with the blushes, they're louder than the noises

of every single jewel hitting the floor
how is it that you still ask for more?

everything gets louder with the windows open
hand over the powder, repeating motion

all the faces smear into a cloud
it's still true i want you to be proud

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