Dead men's hands.
They're filled with beautiful temptations
That you can touch and taste
And swallow
But never call your own.
And until you see them touched
Tasted
Swallowed
By some other unlucky bastard
You'd never realised how much
Sweaty desire filled these rooms.
You don't care at all.
You just want someone to touch
Taste
Swallow
And say they care.
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