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The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
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Swallow the hook of happiness and mirth,
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are their flimsy hands just pointing, open,
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in exactly the same way that stone
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Just swerving memories
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My toes are dictionaries.
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The great story weaves closer and closer, millions of
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I said I will love you more
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If I were the moon I would shrink into a sand grain
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ten thousand murex shells to make