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I look at it through binoculars
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it is most sane and sunly
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How wide does the crack
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We breathe, briefly.
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I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk
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Time is the thing I am made of. Time is the
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Sometimes I don’t know how to make it
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A flow of water that found its way long ago
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Sometimes
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and all I know are the seventy manes
