| Meet me at St. Nicholas
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| Among the oaks, behind the church
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| That sway like pig-tailed girls as summer wind whistles
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| Around your bare-skin knees and the forsythia leaves
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| In the shade, lay with me
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| Tickled by the feather reed
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| That’s where the trees grow old under the ivy’s hold
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| As you in my two arms, equally safe from harm
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| And in a hazy day dream, our bodies married the stream
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| And we grow down into pebbles and silt
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| The water ran from the fields until the oceans were filled
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| And found the sea bed the comfiest quilt
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| There was more life in the weeds than in the few hundred seats
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| In rows from transept to chancel to nave
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| And when their anger had paused
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| I turned and answered their calls
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| With, «You're just audience, I’m the applause»
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| We take on the burden of all these sad-eyed children
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| With lilies bunched in our hands
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| We fake our concern and speak softly as the surgeon
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| Tells wife to cancel her plans
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| Take a body to water, take a body to tundra
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| Just take me with you as well
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| Please take a body to water, take a body to tundra
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| Just take me with you as well |