why is it you that i think of,
why cant i dream of another.
when we're at the opposites of the table.
my sista says to love you,
but my mummy says to bid adieu.
and im just playing with my own spoon.
not one to play,
and never one to say,
what i dont mean.
yet i find myself saying,
how good you are for me.
oh who am i fooling.
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