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Á¦¸ñ: Untitled #3
°¡¼ö: John Frusciante


A dove is a glove
That I wear in my heart
And though I like to dress smart
It doesn¡¯t have any part of the world of fashion
And you¡¯re there to put me down
And I¡¯m sick off the frowns that follow me around
I would like the sky but there¡¯s no reason why
She¡¯d say to this world with the nose of a girl
Turned up so loud that it rings, sings the cloud
I've never been here and though you're physically near
You're pushing me away to decay like the day that I loved

It is as real as the girl, blabbing nothing outside my window
What do I have to show
To a world that the only way to destroy
Is to die like a baby boy
I could be happy in infinity
Of the space of my eyelid
But I know I¡¯m somewhere else
Where the words on this page
Are better than the scribling nonsense they are,
And it would be real,
And I eat my last meal
Wish that I could feel
But now I don¡¯t even know if I¡¯m real

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Untitled #3
John Frusciante



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