I can't hear the rush of air, the shrill laughter of water - I can't see the gentle caresses of skin on skin I can't smell the acrid tang of spilled ink.
Bloody hell, i can never write that. And chill, let inspiration come to you naturally. *Floats away*
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I can't hear the rush of air, the shrill laughter of water -
I can't see the gentle caresses of skin on skin
I can't smell the acrid tang of spilled ink.
Bloody hell, i can never write that. And chill, let inspiration come to you naturally. *Floats away*