| Good morning… Just woke up
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| Today is 20th of September
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| I wash and dress and then…
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| Good morning… Just woke up
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| Today is 15th of November
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| I wash and dress and go
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| Good morning… Just woke up
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| Today is 5th of May
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| I wash and dress and then…
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| And the ceiling’s gone as heavy smoke
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| Am off into the stream of Night… so fragile…
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| To live another life of mine
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| Either forgotten or unhappened…
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| …A boat is cutting dark-green waters
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| I am watching it while dad is rowing
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| I spot a thread of smoke at the bank
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| A smell of food, somebody’s waving us…
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| We’re home, both tired, wet but pleased:
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| Today it was a perfect fishing
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| My mom’s surprised and happy, so am I
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| She’s smiling, praising me, her son
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| Am running, my sister’s joining me!
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| It’s swing time, who’s the first?
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| We’re swinging so that apples fall
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| And joy’s filling the garden
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| And then we’re having evening meal outside, together
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| Black-yellow tongues of fire are rushing up
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| Into the velvet sky, so magically stellated
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| All of a sudden, a spark, it hits my eye…
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| Growing’s the pain to blow up the world and kill me back
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| Into the Day we all belong to…
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| Morning… Just woke up…
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| And so it goes, day after day
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| A pale-gray circle
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| Of indifferent decay…
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| I just don’t know
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| What still makes me wake up
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| To find myself surrounded
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| By the dead again…
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| …For buzz of bees and scent of pollen
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| And can-docks over water’s deep
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| For silver threads of warm rains fallen
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| For all it still dwells beneath the steep
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| For shady glades and sunny wild heaths
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| And golden meadows, where we’ve run
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| For rapture of a careless child with
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| The taste of pinesap on his tongue…
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| For a night-bird's flight across the river
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| Through the mournful toll of a lonely church
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| For after-dawn dew droplets quiver
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| And moths that dance in the light of a torch
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| For those who choose the pain of living
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| And bleeding wounds from that day forth
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| For martyrs tortured, whose forgiving
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| Still helps the Skies to bear this Earth…
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| I take a deep breath as the vision’s dying…
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| Those never fail who never dare
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| Be wept by none and cursed, we were just trying
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| To dream of what you’re not aware…
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| Of floating mists embracing lovers
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| And honey poured on just baked bread
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| Of solid rocks and fragile flowers…
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| Yet nothing matters to the dead… |