Ficly

bearded woman (a drinking song)

it’ll put hair on your chest
they say, they say
but never at rest
are they, are they
“you’re manly at best”
touché, touché
but i cannot be
your beard

for late in the night
cafe, cafe
with a primitive sight
of prey, our prey
we’re rising upright
obey, obey
when the sun
finally
disappeared

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