| Grotesque fairyland — astray
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| with fine falling snow this myth now melts away
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| through bloody archways it flows upstream to see
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| this heartache parching me
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| it burns my gaiety, taking down it’s golden mask
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| my tears ooze away on drifting soil
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| Through peace i stride and flee
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| your musing thoughts caressed by fear
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| i hear some nightingales, they sing
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| my withered dreams to heal
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| beauty’s rose should never die
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| my grief lies onward, joy behind
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| nature calls it to be gone
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| so tired with my woe…
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| storm gusts of winter’s day
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| for restful death i beg
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| ere that sun does wake
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| drown my sins, black memory!
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| freezing have i felt, what dark days seen,
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| in sleep a king
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| mounted on the wind your bareness
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| comes to touch the seals
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| never resting time leads summer on,
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| my heart is slain
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| within this wound which iron did impress
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| there will a river whispering run
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| the very birds are mute,
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| they dread the winter’s near
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| their sighs, they wet my eyes
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| drown my world with weeping earnesty
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| too hot the eye of heaven shined
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| anon the tunnel i will find
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| praise deep vermilion in the rose
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| what tree or stone does want a soul?
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| light, thy picture in my sight
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| it’s held within his hands
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| it’s grounded in my heart
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| disguised in prial veils
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| morning-shadows wear away
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| how many mornings hav i seen? |