Platform noses begging the sun to shine, negating blocker to turn that ever familiar shade of strawberry red. Girls whose skin turns into caramel on demand and hair that lets the sun weave 24 karat spools. Wind roaring louder than the engine and a Queen's view of the world as she sees it: each hop and skip and rush eliciting bigger smiles of pure enjoyment than the last. Scales that shine iridescent in the glow of dusk and peaceful rides home beneath the highway lights.
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