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What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle.
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I thought if only we could believe this
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What do you think you’re grabbing
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In the middle of my own life
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Dark inside, bright outside, a Magritte
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I call it the provinces.
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I may be looking at the set of boulders
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Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
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A certain way I was is gone,
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Seeming to love one, I loved many,
