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Beshken
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Nina
I've got the feeling it isn't you
Time wasn't healing all our wounds
Maybe next week sadness won't infect me
Cause you're misdirecting the madness that I feel
Again, and again and again
Sweat trips, got my hands around
Your hips, drowning out the sound
Of everybody else, the beauty that I found
Isn't real, or is it?
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