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Her red balloon It was the color of our passion Sips of dipped lips often too sweet But indulgence played a binding tune And knitted fingers to safety Thoughts of easy anchors in a fully barren sea And then a tug of reminders kept finding over and over again As a kid entranced by pretty things Walked away from gravity when he hit the earth Skinned his surface enough And pricks and pins meant demise Then sometimes it blew too much To fumble that grip of some love And cut him loose to fly away by eternalslacker |