| Last day of summer,
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| The last sheet on the roof.
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| Sob July, no one can hear you anymore.
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| The rain spat in the face smeared
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| Puddles along the sidewalk.
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| They didn't like it, but they were silent with a cold.
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| As the stars succumbed to the light, they faded.
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| What is hidden behind my sad reflection in the mirror,
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| What pain long-suffering veins hide in themselves.
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| No one on the carousel, no one behind the stone walls.
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| Trees on fire, on the horizon.
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| This picture in the window
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| Where there is no sun.
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| Last day of summer, nothing to rejoice
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| I hear the whisper of the dying August.
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| Thousands of beautiful moments pass us by
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| No one is able to keep them, but the hour is not even.
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| When a second that seemed so ordinary
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| Seems like the best moment of my life.
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| Somewhere around this time
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| Leaves were falling in the park
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| The old swing creaked
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| The faces changed.
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| While the rain is beating against my window -
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| A draw on the carousel is waiting for someone, but it is unlikely to wait.
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| More than three years have passed, don't be surprised.
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| I'm not 22 anymore, you're not 18.
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| So, it's time to say goodbye.
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| Forget who we were with.
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| Sleep with the unloved
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| Live as strangers.
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| So we were or we weren't
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| And if there were, then where?
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| In sadness or in joy,
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| In grief or in trouble?
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| My favorite companion
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| in a trembling voice,
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| Melted in the vast embrace of space.
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| You have to lose to learn to appreciate.
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| Draw on the carousel - cry.
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| You have to live with it.
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| Last day of summer, nothing to rejoice
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| I hear the groan of the dying August.
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| Thousands of beautiful moments pass us by
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| No one is able to keep them, but the hour is not even.
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| When a second that seemed so ordinary
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| Seems like the best moment of my life. |