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howl || florence and the machine

the fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress
until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest

Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters
A man who’s pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright

(via thedauntlessbrave)

  • friend: dude are you sick or something
  • me: no i just look like shit all the time
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