| Even beauty must die:
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| That which subdues both gods and mortals
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| Leaves the steely breast of the stygian Zeus untouched
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| As I wake I hear these words in my mind
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| Their meaning is one that I cannot find
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| My head it pounds with a tempered thought
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| Did my eyes betray that which I sought?
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| What was his gift for I can’t ignore
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| The question posed now as before
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| Once and once only did love soften the lords of the shadow
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| Then, on the very threshold, he sternly revoked his gift
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| What was his gift for I can’t ignore
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| The question posed now as before
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| I can’t begin to realise
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| That I’m the one to which they empathise
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| Aphrodite herself has no power
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| To assuage the hurt of her lover
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| His tender flesh ripped by the cruel boar
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| Nor can the godlike hero be saved, deathless mother
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| At the Scaean gate when, falling, he achieves his date
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| She rises out of the sea
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| With all the daughters of Nereus
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| And the mourning begins for her glorious son
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| All good things must come to pas, too soon
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| Perfection dies
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| Trusting vanity, fading
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| Perfection dies
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| Look back, the mirror shows, Narsus
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| Perfection dies
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| Grieving for what I lost, slowly
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| Perfection dies
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| See! |
| Where the gods are weeping
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| And the goddesses, all of them
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| Weeping that beauty passes
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| Perfection will always die
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| Good, a lament in the mouths of loved ones
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| What is common goes to Orcus unsung
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| And the mourning begins for her glorious son…
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| All good things must come to pas, too soon
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| Perfection dies
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| Trusting vanity, fading
|
| Perfection dies
|
| Look back, the mirror shows, Narsus
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| Perfection dies
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| Grieving for what I lost, slowly
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| Perfection dies |