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the sky
eighty years have passed, and more
let us express our baser passions
they ask me where i've been
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
now while my lips are living
be not angry with me
a storm is riding on the tide
daughter, thou art come to die
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
were it not for that singular smell

 



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