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“Makes me end,
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sweet sunset scent from unseen source,
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He fell that morning, Daedalus-like, into the sea
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Where can we go
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Yes, now that this exists in time, I thought,
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he sits on a rock & watches his friends
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it’s like a fat burnt crayon
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On the first day, and the eternal snow of stars,
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If my feet were spears I would have descended
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Just something shining over over yonder hill