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‘Tis a Colorful Girl I Miss.
Fiery windows call out to my love,
I’m just a fallen tree relaxed in light.
Singing out to the gorgeous night above
I said, “She’s a colorful girl in white.”
The saint that only saw the sun and moon
Cried “No being can be greater than what
They are,” grinned, “Her beauty will be back soon.”
Thus my pity grew over my head, shut.
Sudden and fowl, sick eyes began to dance,
And my riverbed had been torn away.
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