| I saw the sun rise this morning from the far end of the wing, and the shadow on
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| the clouds left by the plane*
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| Following the geese leading out of Michigan, in the dusty sky I traced your
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| name. |
| Leaving in the dark as the fog rolled out her mist like a shroud on the
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| sleeping lake, leaving more behind me than I arrived here with — half asleep
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| and wide awake, half asleep and wide awake
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| Who would see it coming: the movement of the stars, the falling and collision
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| in the meeting of two hearts?
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| You had to have some magic or some tricks up in that sleeve, rolled up to the
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| elbow in the seams, or locked inside the canyon lines etched around your eyes,
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| guarding some mystery
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| You were like a satellite carving out your arc, orbiting the midnight moon and
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| I watched you from the fireside, I watched you play guitar, and I think I fell
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| a little bit too
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| Who would see it coming: the movement of the stars, the falling and collision
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| in the meeting of two hearts?
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| My lips above your mouth were breathing in and out of time
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| Tomorrow you’ll fly your way, I’ll trail these birds south and I’ll see you
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| next time
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| But I never saw that coming: the movement of the stars, the falling and
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| collision in the meeting of our hearts
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| I saw the sun rise this morning from the far end of the wing and the shadow on
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| the clouds left by the plane
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| Leaving more behind me than I arrived here with half asleep and wide awake… |