| Cold Rain is falling down
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| Drowns all the weeds and the flowers.
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| Rushes underground
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| Clears away the trash in the gutter
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| Hear the bells they sing out
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| Signaling the death of an hour.
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| I close the latch and run down,
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| Meet night’s breath hopeless and sour.
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| Out to the street now, I
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| Take the B48 downtown.
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| Wait on the steps, alone
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| But she’s never coming home…
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| Is she?
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| The leaves are falling from the trees
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| A shadow covers Himrod street
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| A frozen body sinking down
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| With winter song’s still crying out
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| Now sheets of mirrored ice,
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| Are shimmering in the street lamp’s light.
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| I wander through the night
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| Seeing through unfamiliar eyes
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| The leaves are falling from the trees
|
| A shadows covers Himrod street
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| A frozen body sinking down
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| With winter song’s still crying out
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| Maybe hidden still,
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| At the bottom of some culvert
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| Pockets lined with stones,
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| And lungs with icy water,
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| Could the thawing of the springtime possibly uncover,
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| The path which last you took,
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| And more, what made you wander?
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| Or will there never be an end?
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| Yes, blood runs down the feathers!
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| Euphoria! |
| Ephemeral inamorata! |