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fall poetry

if the red slayer think he slays
see, they return
full of tears
here lies a most beautiful lady
let me move slowly through the street
i love to steal awhile away
he's gone
with lips blood red and heart of stone
once this soft turf
softly weeping
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
all my love for my sweet
there is an hour of peaceful rest
what was it the engines said

 



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