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How pale my love is, a picture of beauty, so soft.
You are hard, alone your silence speaks to me,
and tells me to stop the vigil on your cold bedside.
It smells like the chrome and sweetness of decay.
How pale my love is, a picture of beauty, so soft.    You are hard, alone your silence speaks to me,    and tells me to stop the vigil on your cold bedside.    It smells like the chrome and sweetness of decay.