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Latin Gate

Rumpus


travelling
is a fading way
to an early grave
run through the jungle
past the poison
home for a few days

i can say
"but hey"
and try my best to pretend
i'm not tired of you
try to meminisse
before it all drifts away

i might spend all my time
in lands of make-believe
when it gets too real
you start to deceive

chorus
i can be barefoot
cigar in my hand
latin gate is a picture-framed away
too beautiful to be discrete

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