Ode to boy Yazoo
Contents
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When he moves I watch him from A#
behindhe turns and laughter flickers in his
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eyesintent and direct when he
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speaks, I watch his lipsWhen he
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drives I love to watch his A#
handswhite and smooth almost
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feminine,almost american,
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I have to watch him.G
in his face age descends on A#
youth, exaggeration on the C
truthhe caught me looking then but
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soon his eyes forgotand
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everything he A#
seems to do reflects just another shade of C
blueI saw him searching into you and
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ached a whileG
I watch his lips caress the A#
glass,his fingers stroke its stem and
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passto lift a cigarette at
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last, he dries his eyesG
from a shadow by the A#
stairI watch as he weeps
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unawarethat I'm in awe of his
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despair, but I am thereNew Submission +2 -0
Status: ApprovedValue: 20 karma points
Voted to approve with 70 points 4 years ago
Voted to approve with 70 points 4 years ago