Thus spake Sinatra
a song of smoke
whirling in golden tresses
touches us as we lie.
the sweat of passion yet unquenched
melds into the music of faint raindrops
filtering through open windows
it softly insists
encore encore...
whirling in golden tresses
touches us as we lie.
the sweat of passion yet unquenched
melds into the music of faint raindrops
filtering through open windows
it softly insists
encore encore...
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