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Click hereThe sweet champagne of your vein will coat my tongue where I have stung.
Your cried protests I will contest, upon crimson breast I have fest.
Pale and meak, you, I do seek, though you grow weak, you still shriek.
Why do you fight against my might? I keep you in my sight, even through your painful plight.
Keep me warm, and about your heart I will swarm, to keep you from harm...
Rest now love, I shall lift you above, you are my whitened dove.