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The crescent was red and transition was dying |
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For an instant forgotten and my moon would be gone |
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The night was resplendent and today was incessant |
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I closed my eyes and my crescent was gone |
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Who is he, who extinguishes fire? |
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It is I, It is me |
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Who is she, who resolves in devotion? |
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It is you, It is me |
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History's ever and the patterns are ceaseless |
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Recurrence's my sentence and failure's my crop |
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I vanquish myself with a sword of abortion |
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Thence torpid I rest in miscarriage alone |
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Who is he who ruins desire? |
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It is I, It is me |
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Who is she who awakens the fire? |
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It is you, It is me |