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His Masculine Soldier (With Muscles)

I can't compete
With the soldier man
You want to throw him
Into the bedroom

I have veteran status
Digging the ditch syndrome
Laying down in coffins
And hurling pills

Six foot mourning
You have neon shoulders
And certified boots
Licking the man nightly

I have the stomach of a brute
Creation
The back of a spineless disease
And you are ideally brown

Equated with supersonic beats
Instead of heavy lead footed heat
That I wade in
Further away from his horizon.

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