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the folly of love

voltaire
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the folly of love

you get a tiny, matching tattoo, on that pristine canvas, four decades new, to impress a walking ransom note, who's got more ink than all the plays that shakespeare wrote, and you wonder why she don't get what you say, as you stare into the eyes of someone half your age, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, you fly a girl halfway 'cross the land, you buy a ring and place it on her dainty hand, then she thanks some random stranger on the internet, for some likes he gave her yet she hasn't thanked you yet, and you sweat and swear as the pressure's rising, you just didn't rose of a mid-life crisis, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, so you sing some bars of cohen's hallelujah, to a lady child who stood and stared right through ya, you can't speak of love and passion to someone who hasn't lived, and you'll never find that treasure cause she hasn't one to give, so you stare into those pretty vacant eyes, and only now you start to realize, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love, it's the folly of love

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