| Did you hear the one
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| About the day the moon fell to earth?
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| It had a crater exactly the size
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| Of a human head on it
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| And it landed on my head
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| And now my head is the moon
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| Or the one about the day
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| A thousand lives from now
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| When we return as a team of archeologists
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| And discover fossils of ourselves
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| In a former life
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| On the day we spurned our nervous twitch
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| And found our yearn to hint at winter bliss
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| On the day the stars
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| Sang the national anthem of sweaty disbelief
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| Of coelacanth teeth
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| To scream loud enough
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| To shatter the roof of a coral reef
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| And the shrapnel ground up into paint
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| For robin’s egg colored dream
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| And root beer float
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| Second hand flavored drool absorbers
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| And the words «hope» and «home»
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| That sound the same
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| Smell the same as the day
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| The doe caught a sad snowflake on her
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| Tongue and melted it in an instant
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| And it tasted like the blackhole’s
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| Wild-eyed longing for light
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| Whether from the starts that radiate
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| Or the planets that reflect it
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| Or the eyes that reflect the reflection
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| Or the eyes looking into those eyes
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| And seeing the reflection of the eyes
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| Which if all goes according to plan
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| Will outlast the universe itself |