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Let me go with you. Lead the way.
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those strange, sunset-red laments,
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Did you, in the end, find
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in the interval between vulture
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I love the present with its layers
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It has been so wet stones glaze in moss;
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fanned clouds project rosy tones;
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her heart springs open like a child’s music box. And out of the box comes
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We cannot live, except thus mutually
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You eat. You look.