she was a sweet thing that much is true but when I saw her at rhe window lit up by the morning light I thought she might be an angel sent to save me from myself but my angel had claws she’d been hurt before
I was a ragamuffin no fixed abode but I could talk the birds from the trees I laid it on thick with a big fuck off brush maybe I said too little maybe I said too much I guess I’ll never know my angel went away we didn’t stay in touch the taste of her lingers still the woman in the window what’s that the symbol of?
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