| The sun inside your eyes sends me impossibly | |
| Through seasons spilling fluid time like arteries of gold | |
| Beside this tree of oak and moss most innocently | |
| The sedentary song describes our willingness to lie | |
| Between your red and golden skin most innocently | |
| Together like two meadows one, too soon our course is run | |
| In softness as in stone we find regretably | |
| The solitary song describes our willingness to die |
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