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The Jester

de Peter Lakes

Hey girls,
Though the winter is lost
To fools who cherish
On these decadent nights
Of Spring I want to walk.
Run wild,
Move your frames in the dark
The moon desire's clock.

Hey girls,
Sexy, drunk in the street,
Your racy laughter
Rings so dulcet and fine
On April's warmest night.
Run wild,
Move your frames in the street.
The moon on Forest Street

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