| Safely in strong arms I lie now
|
| Torn, the flags, but still they fly now;
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| Memories of the cold Decembers
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| Trampled roses, cloves and embers—
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| Gone the shadows deep divisions
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| That trade on hopes with steep conditions…
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| After every sorrow comes a joy
|
| But every sorrow knows one more
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| Theives are cornered, smoking lanterns swing
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| Threadbare shoulders rolling under wings—
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| Sliding from her arms, conforming
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| Darkest eyes to brightest morning
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| Stealing back through woods and ditches
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| Pulling out the crooked stitches…
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| After every sorrow comes a joy
|
| But every thief, he knows one more
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| I envy the sky its open arms
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| Its hidden eye, its howling false alarms;
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| The way it moves above you trembling
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| The day it breaks to pull you in, then
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| Curtain of its heart descending
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| Spiriting the sun its ending…
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| After every sorrow comes a joy
|
| But every howl hides one more
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| This may challenge all our senses
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| Hold us tight within its fences—
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| But singing out, her gate stands open
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| For all the world, so weak and broken
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| A story giving all a framing
|
| A face that waits but for a naming…
|
| After every sorrow comes a joy
|
| And every story knows one more |