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When the sun in the morning
Peeps over the hill,
And kisses the roses 'round my windowsill.
Then my heart fills with gladness
When I hear the trill
Of the birds in the treetops on Mockin' Bird Hill.
Desire hangs on for dear life
on the windowsill of the collarbone
of the one I love
and a glimmering shimmer of sweat
gathers into a pool in her palm
from a well in her wrist
There's a shimmering vision by the window pane
a cellophane figure speaking
in tongues from above
Too much, too little, too late to ever try again
Too much, too little, too late, let's end it being friends
Too much, too little, too late, we knew it had to end
Too much of something, is bad enough, but something's coming over me to make me wonder,
Too much of nothing, is just as tough, I need to know the way to feel to keep me satisfied.
Music is playing in the darkness
And a lantern goes swinging by
Shadows flickering
My heart's jittering
Just you and I
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