Even if you'd never strayed from me, I'd question your fidelity.
There'd always be a shroud of suspicion and my heart's a liability.
With your hands maroon, so freshly red, you'd wrap your lips around my neck.
Try and force to love the thought of me. Simple motions make me ill.
Was it bitter when you tossed and turned on an undercover mattress?
Did it...
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