My dear I must now inform you that you
Are far too much akin to a nail-gun
If I place you under a pressure new
You jab at me in little ways. Like sun
burnt skin on a hot day you sting and pinch
and yet to this one spot you hold me fast;
So that I could not even move an inch.
Your fire and passion has, since days long past,
always kept me from leaving this hard life
but I know that nail-guns do jam, run-out
and so I can’t make you into my wife.
And until then we’ll fight another bout.
So now I’m in emerg. from you, you bitch.
But still you know I’ll savour ev’ry stitch.
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