Waltz
Texto del Guión Gráfico
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- The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy;
- But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy
- We romped until the pans Slid of the kitchen shelf;
- My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself.
- You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt,
- Then waltzed me to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
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