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who is the runner in the skies
rocked in the cradle of the deep
a little peach in the orchard grew
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
be not angry with me
days endeared to every muse
gone are the three, those sisters rare
beneath the warrior's helm
see, from this counterfeit of him
perhaps it is no matter that you died
now that i have cooled to you

 



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