Hate your drug

Like four paper-dolls all heavy with sleep
They hold you like a baby, your body so weak
They lay you on a white bed, almost dead at thirty,
Like four paper dolls all heavy with sleep.

And with your hair all over my dress,
Your heart had stopped beating, your head on my chest
And I told you for the last time that I loved you best.
And with your hair all over my dress.

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