why is it that it always seams
that people are looking for statues for them to please
rippled chests and little brains
and knowing that all it brings is pain
where in the darkness there are people like me
that walk the earth eternally
to bring nightly delights that some cant stand
we are no different then the statues bland
a little darker, a bit unsure
not as rippled but thoughts of pure
rose as black as night marks our paths
to nightly pleasure and ghostly deaths
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