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She never looks |
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And she never listens |
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Her heart only knows what it feels |
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And all that she is |
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And all that she isn't |
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Her every movement reveals |
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All her bright moods |
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And all her dark tempers |
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She's never the way she appears |
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She sometimes forgets |
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And sometimes remembers |
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And sometimes must laugh |
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Through the tears |
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Of lavender mornings |
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And gray afternoons |
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Sad when the day takes its leave |
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Nights of white passion |
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And deep shades of blue |
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These are the |
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Colors of |
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EveThe shade on her eye |
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Like pale purple asters |
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Runs down her cheek when she cries |
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And the ways of her heart |
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No man may master |
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Even though many will try |
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The blush on her cheek |
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The gold on her fingers |
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Shine when the lady's in love |
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But a strong gentle touch |
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And a sunset that lingers |
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Are the things that her |
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Dreams are made of |
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And Lavender mornings |
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And gray afternoons |
|
Sad when the day takes its leave |
|
Nights of white passion |
|
And deep shades of blue |
|
These are the |
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Colors of |
|
Eve |