Then deport me to a place close to your bosom
Torture me, if you may, with yours sweetness
Because, with you, I harbor intentions of overthrowing time
Walk into my soul, and steal towers of solitude
Channel my rivers of loneliness,
Through your garden, where flowers bloom
Let them absorb water, until they run dry
Embrace perfectionism out of me
Prod the demons to release passions of mine
Salvage the best of them, and keep them
And then deport me to a place close to your bosom
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