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She Is My Music

She births music in her eyes 
A melody that echoes in my mind 
I run my fingers through the metaphors in her hair  
She is the oxygen to my air 
The air that sings with the wind 
The perfect tune of an empirical blend 
If her symphony were to fade, I would face a pearly gate
My existence would be in shambles towards the most desolate state 
 She finds it sexy to survive 
I need her orchestra to stay alive 

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