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THE FORCE
Something to hang a dream on
Fragrant shadows of smoke
Incense
Lost to the power of air
And suggestion
Something evil lurks around
Playful shrines of love
Intercourse
Swayed by the power of music
And melody
Excess leads to veneration
A pink flower tattooed on her shoulder
Strum those guitars
Before the night grows colder
Or so I’ve been told