sunday munich – in the same way lyrics
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his fingertips reach my frigid body
as again he’s much too late
to find what he’s reaching for
strokes me as he would a prize
a desolate void behind his eyes
the game between wanting less and asking for more
strikes a pinnacle here
in my bed
i believe
i hate this conversation
where you pretend to listen
and sometimes understanding me
but most times missing the point
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