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■ Les saisons
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Of thee now plays this lonesome lyre,
My lilliputian lady-bird Thou art a muse, thou art my fire My theater of the absurd. Remember all those starless skies Sealed with a kiss of unknown pleasure? And all those neverTold goodbyes Were nothing but defensive measure... Yes, now take back all that you’ve given Denying all the sweet temptation It shan’t be all so soon forgiven I’ll be consumed by abnegation. I’ll wait behind my painted smile Behind a self-devouring verse I’ll look you in the eyes awhile Beseeching to give up your curse.
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