| I’m goin' away far from the fine day
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| the sun burnt out upon the clouds
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| on the fields, but you will never
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| clearly hear my voice aloud.
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| through the nights, all through bare bright lights
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| ghouls appeared before my eyes,
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| messangers bringing religion
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| of bloody art destroying our own life.
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| I’ve seen my blood shed everywhere
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| I’ve seen the fable can’t get in
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| I’ve seen my existence stuck on the shiny leaves of Vogue.
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| I’ve seen my look lit up by able make up men.
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| I’ve seen my heart emptied up at last not knowing any taste
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| of tears, any more.
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| I’ve seen the firm and well-kept hand stealing my existence,
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| my own life.
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| I’ve seen the woman I wished to be shooting me without a delay,
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| till making me feel deep her beauty.
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| oh, the bullet hit the mark straight,
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| dancing as a ballet show
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| on the edge of darkest hotels,
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| catching shabby lies through the night.
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| Right in a frame, as if it were a crash,
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| after realizing my mistake, I closed my eyes.
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| Yes, in the end I saw myself close my eyes to daylight.
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| by Dickinson |