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Run laughing towards the serpent's jaws, where England meets the sea |
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Breathe in the old dreams of the dead that travel on the winds |
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A taste of salt, of love, of things left unsaid, undone |
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A face like sunlight that burns my eyes and my soul |
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That haunts and comforts, whispers of what could have been |
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In broken days that lie beneath a broken tree |
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I call to no one or to the gods, who never reply |
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The years that have melted away, and a future like a sickness waits to destroy |
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I will drown in the blood of summer |