It's quiet on my floor
Except for the gospel ladies
Just the smell of some wicked candles
Makes me think into the coldest sound
They wear light-rimmed hats and joyful smiles
Who loved to run up the street branch
And in the middle of it is a puddle of water
Wind of faithful voices
Except for the gospel ladies
Just the smell of some wicked candles
Makes me think into the coldest sound
They wear light-rimmed hats and joyful smiles
Who loved to run up the street branch
And in the middle of it is a puddle of water
Wind of faithful voices
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