The strangest dreams
of a summer's joy,
be that of a girl
or that of a boy,
caress its laments
as the stars proceed by,
spring is the time
for true lovers to cry,
they weep for the ones
who just couldn't take it,
& see all at once
that we can't possible shake it,
this time it's different
from summertimes gone,
we wish not remember
all the hours of dawn.
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