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    Foxy

    I swear, nothing will beat
    When you bite my lips
    And run your hands through my hair
    Kissing me like my exhale is the last bit of air
    That will ever enter your lungs
    And when you kiss my neck,
    I feel a shiver like an arctic breeze 

    "Getting Foxy with Geraldine."

    Yellow fizzies in the lime cabana,
    Bronze banana at five-fifteen,
    Downing dizzies in a timely manner,
    Getting foxy with you, Geraldine.

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