in the silence of the garden, moss arizing on the wind, and the beast is pondering LOVE LOVE LOVE, 'till the rusty nail grow dim, i can't seem to make you mine, through the long and lonely night and i try so hard, darling, but the crowd pulled you away, through the rhythm and the rain and the ivy coiled around my hand so i lingered with the people, in the silent august glade
but the rain has brought the night and the night has brought the rain...
the clientele / (I can't seem) to make you mine
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