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I find it hard to be with minutes,
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Be ceremony. Be a lit candle
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until your fingers
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There was one summer
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mirrored. Think of the hive,
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And waiting, and forgiveness, and five-dollar bills,
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And we speak of everything
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like calamity. Now he tore
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We see it move and shine and swallow it.
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Nothing for ears, nothing for eyes;