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The Function of the Orgasm

It's half past eight

And I'm waiting in a beautiful place

Anticipating everything we'll do

And all we'll say, "Till your father sees you again"Now I don't know just what you're doing

Is it me or him that you're screwing?

But I don't care and you don't care

When you're hereNow the storm is here, I see you running

Your face full of tears so red and burning

And I can't work out how you spend

Another day with himJust say the word, you know I'll do it

I'm waiting for you just let me do it

And we can run to another place

Less full of fear

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