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the quarry and the bowstring
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daring us to stay mad. We know most of our
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Still, it did want to go
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Tonight it’s a certainty that the President will resign
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The animals are leaving
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the half-illumination
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After joy raises you into the stratosphere,
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call it a flood, what it is to be
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And though the jeweled
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with all our bones knocking, we go,