your art of laughing does not have a genre
the colors of your smile are not found in a box
crushed in the silence of your stare
I think i can just live there in your heart
open it with a key that has no mold
and maybe crawl up the arm to the brain
and find out what's going on
the "News" nowadays is that you love me
but a lil birdy told me it was just an affair
but you know how the media lies
and he-said she-said is plain old bird talk in my ears
while i'm holding your hand and you're whispering that shit
in my ear
let's watch these people flock to the stand
and read about this so-called
love affair
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