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Wild Child
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Winter Pockets
Walking in the winter down rows of empty sidewalks, I reached into my pocket, found an old note from you It read 'Babydoll, I love you. Can't wait to see you Sunday.' I tried to hear you read it, can't remember your voice. Was it sweet? Was it sultry? Did I tremble when I heard it? Did you sing softly to me, whisper words in my ear? So I sit and I think of you So I sit and I wonder who you sing songs to now.
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