Jake's Flea Market

it never comes out the way it went in


confess if you will or don’t


confess if you will or don’t
that you’d have bedded your hand on a bible to swear
to the lies that you had no want to see
the rouge on her cheek to hear
how her voice sounded
to smell the alcohol in her perfume
to taste her kisses lie
and tell me you wanted only to ask her name


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