Can't see behind your shades,
Take them off,
If you're not afraid,
Again, I'm close to late,
For a job I hate,
And hard-pressed for my 18 inches of space,
A thousand miles away from love's tender embrace,
A new page is fresh with dust,
All these bodies surrounding,
In such a close proximity,
Suck the thought-filled opemetress nearly dry, at times.
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