| She danced for Chopin, but his request was that she left
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| The sea gave up his daughter for the moon
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| So weary she looked, as my arm lifts at noon
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| The fate of you and the world hung on his lonely choice
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| I cannot, but I would love to bury the dead again
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| Reward and punishment are the walls of a city bare
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| And it is within you comfort I show the mirror
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| A panic of rich desire leaps up from your burning face
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| The face that shows your eyes was my sole victim tonight
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| It’s for you, Christ, that my bodies' here
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| You’re bold with your anger and your love is shrewd
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| He is quick so beware
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| The cold pool waits just for you
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| Pierced to the soul by heavens blade of dire shadows
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| Where she speaks with her lord
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| Her maker sits all alone
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| Deeds are fruit, words are leaves
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| Long shadows cast by old sins
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| She spoke of Christ to the deaf and the poor
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| The woman of fatalism is here now
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| Her heart creeps among shadows of sick children
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| The dying, graceful snow breaks her simple back |