| Today a thousand years
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| Of strained affection and prayer
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| «Out beyond ideas of right & wrong is a field»
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| Will I meet you there?
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| Will I meet you there?
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| The summer garden blooms
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| With autumn soon replaced
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| Another harvest moon—
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| So many ways to lose
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| So many faiths
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| «Holy to the LORD» on the bells of horses
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| Safely on the shore we sank like stones
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| To the bottom of a made up ocean
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| Standing on the lake shore, Julia
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| Silent as a seashell, Julia
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| Magnet of the elk park, Julia
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| Laid down on the temple floor
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| «Send a couple rats,» said Julia
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| I’d have done the same thing to you
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| Coffee and a milk, now Julia
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| Who do you think needs who more?
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| In case your plan falls through
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| To mispronounce my name
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| (Static between me and that Salafi, Yusef)
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| To curse You-Don't-Know-Who
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| And bow before the same
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| (So was the scene at al-Aqsa.)
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| I’ll meet you there
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| (I have to admit I loved the cut of his pant legs!)
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| I’ll meet you there
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| (Another lovely afternoon for Sūrat al-Kāfirūn)
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| «Holy to the LORD» on the bells of horses
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| Safely on the shore we sank like stones
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| To the bottom of a made up ocean |