Вершы: The Residents. Fingertips.
Something faintly emanating
Perfume and decay
Whispered lightly in the wind
That she had got away
Longing for the touch of something
Soft upon my face
I thought about her fingertips
And not her lack of grace
Perfume and decay
Whispered lightly in the wind
That she had got away
Longing for the touch of something
Soft upon my face
I thought about her fingertips
And not her lack of grace
Residents (The)
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