Snaking smooth, no trace upon her step; her eyes accept.
Inviting, truly, whiskey-loosened morals - her eyes kept me.
He pats on the back, a subtle attack: he picks your pockets.
He smiles. He spies you in his sheepish grin - beguiles.
I know you know the ravens ain't timid,
I know you know that there's no safety net.
The chance of keeping clear dwindle
And all the lessons that you learned you can't recall.
One time I'm shaking off their webs,
Two times I'm changing,
Now I'm in the middle of manipulating,
Playing their charades and…
It's the devil and the saint kissing shoulder blades.
Welcome to the lions den.
And the vices slip on your tongue.
The vices deep in your eyes.
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