After-hours.

If I was a little lamb, I would run through the ivy curtains.
The moonlight would dictate the sounds of your voice and I would trot merrily to meet you.

When Greenwich becomes Utopia and Basil leaves become alcoholic beverages, we will dance.
It’s better this way.

Sarah moves me, her words echo in my head and I fear the fire igniting my soul.
However, red wine will help.

My love has 4 legs and runs all over the place and knocks people over.
My gift to you.

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