I love the cold.
It makes me bold.
I slip two fingers into your fold.
In your mine I have discovered gold.
Only you I wish to hold.
After you, God discarded the mold.
In your arms I am no longer old.
To you my soul I've sold.
Be discreet I am told.
It makes me bold.
I slip two fingers into your fold.
In your mine I have discovered gold.
Only you I wish to hold.
After you, God discarded the mold.
In your arms I am no longer old.
To you my soul I've sold.
Be discreet I am told.
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