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Satellite or moon? Riddle or fortune?
How long will it take me to leave my cocoon?
To wrestle the room and no longer marooned?
Emerge like a winner?
Reminds me of you, my sweet summer fruit
Always an island and rarely consumed
With the dust or the filler, pro or beginner
I'm leaving the dimmer on low
I'm faulty as hell, hide in my shell
Climb the whole tower without ringing the bell
I'm at war with my shadow, roads, dark and narrow
But I am the arrow
And blessed is he who bares this disease
Craves the desire of a man on his knees
He says "Listen to me, say what you see
And worry for it when you're gone"
Ha-ah-ah, ah
Ha-ah-ah, ah
Ha-ah-ah, ah
Ha-ah-ah, ah
Writer(s): Isabella Sophie Tweddle
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