Zywa
In my own truth
I can put on nice clothes
and sit in the lap of a man
with blue eyes, drinking champagne
in the colour of his skin
without having any feelings for him
but I just like to sit
on an empty terrace
in my own truth
of an empty terrace
as long as nobody thinks
look, over there, that charming
terrace with that woman
let's join and have
a roadside-flower lemonade there
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