You looked cold sitting across me,
Quivering shivering and praising,
Your veins throbbing through your
Dark skin, you seemed old sitting across me
Yet you regaled me with tales,
Clearly interested, clearly becoming,
Clearly not taking no for an answer.
It wasn't like you were selling me insurance,
Well of the future may be and I played along,
Stringing word into word, Melody into melody,
Creating symphony with hope you would
Give me a chance to be showered with praises.
You sat there hoping I would give you a chance
To have the last dance, but that's reserved only for
My old man: The true gold with throbbing veins
Through dark skin: And so our night ended and
Day began.
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