| My dearest friend, take these books of mine
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| You always loved the words that dreamt inside
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| Perhaps they’ll show you places I never found
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| My brother take these clothes of mine
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| In which I always looked so stylish and refined
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| They’ll be much warmer here above the ground
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| And while summer is bright on the walk
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| Bending shadows like hands of a clock
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| Maybe I can find some shade under this tree
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| There could just be some rest in this for me
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| My sister, take all my photographs
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| May faces of friends and family let you laugh
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| And keep your memories happy and clear
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| My lover, heart, take these songs I wrote
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| Play them years from now when you are old
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| And perhaps someday someone will hear
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| And in this air so still and strange
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| If I close my eyes, will the wind change?
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| If you listen closely, you might hear me sing
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| Take all that’s left, take everything |