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A child to the world; the world to the Lover.

Some say I’ve been in the wild
For too long
That I am stirred by the basest strings of
Pastoral song. When your softened breath touches
The ‘thank you very much’-es
That usually come, didn’t come, you know.

We steal the moment from time
And we revolve it slow:
Where I crease back the folds,
A lost minute in history. And in the end
If I refuse to loosen, let you through
Would this turn to be a film without a crew?

And did you know it, sweet child,
That the hangman signs weird signs to me?
That the lips of untainted child contains
Life’s essential Good in ecstasy? That, when your
Eyes close in the turn of the take
You know that that moan is not a fake?



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