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what was it the engines said
tripping up, falling down
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
it was a tall young oysterman
why do you always stand there shivering
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
before the solemn bronze saint
one by one, like leaves from a tree
looking beyond
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
awful truths these be
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
this is the song of youth

 



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