I watch the playing grace of moonlight,
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She dances like a child.
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Her veil is undone, I can see her face,
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She is looking at me now.
|
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But then, from my opera glass she disappears
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And I have other places to go.
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I go where the wild flowers grow
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She hands me a piece of bread.
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Her eyes are longing, her body trembling,
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Floating on a stream.
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And then, just like the wind, she whispers
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¡°Farewell, my friend¡±
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And I have other places to go.
|
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The snow falls where I sing my songs
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She opens herself to me.
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Her breast infer, her lips are blue,
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I can see she is very cold.
|
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But standing at the lake, she sails her way back home
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And I have other places to go.
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A thousand books against the walls,
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She asks me about my name.
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My answer is quick as I drink my wine
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And she kisses me on the cheek.
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And then, like the rain running down her skin
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I have other places to go.
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|
-----------------
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Wild Flowers
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The Bony King of Nowhere |