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the night was made for making things
making up
making out
making love
making promises empty like the hollow drum in my chest that starts to beat when you come around
making the time stretch to meet the morning light when I find myself laying in your bed cool as a clever little riff on your guitar
making a mess of things and laughing later when the details paint a funny picture of two people without a clue
making wrinkles in the sheets that spell my secrets you always search for
(make me yours, that's what they say)
'cause I want to make you mine
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