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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
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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