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The moon passes her twentieth night.
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And Coltrane still offering the same four notes
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Some things stay / red hot
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I had chiselled these words
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Unclasp it like jewels, the gold
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day coming / down hard on its sharp edge; you can never
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There will be more love,
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I sit near a small fire telling my selfish tale to everyone who
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It is embedded in us,
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Tireless traveler
