Paint Me with a Brush Held in Your Lips

Paint me with a brush held in your lips

The heat outside burns, the sun scorches skin

And in my soul, only one thing begins

Dreams of sinful trips

I gaze at the far-off horizon’s gleam

The ocean stretches, shrouded in death's veil

The human heart, a crippled machine

Pours out only sorrow, endlessly frail

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