There are days when
I love the plain one,
All her chubby clues,
Innocence and virtue too,
Pay the debts I've claimed,
For the pretty ones,
Leave you closed,
Falling through smoke and shadows of grace,
Just to find her burned face.

There were the days when
I loved the plain one,
Mild to the flame.

She paid attention to details.
Finally, I was the pretty son,
Not too bad to love,
The plain ones.

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