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You know. // From here,
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“It is not as if,” the philosopher writes, “an I exists
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Without the labor of thought, in that element,
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The stainless clouds go mounting
-
boats of the spirit are burning
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O, my scouring eye
-
a mental cocktail has tiled my forehead
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And I will sing, waiting for the gift of sound and vision
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After all, there’s no need
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I watch a cloud sailing over us.
