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The grass fields are turning brown and dry and dying
There is pain in my throat and my head is spinning but
I’ve been seeing purple for a while now
Royal purple with the brown eyes
We are standing on a red hot spoon
Held above a stove fire
But I think I have found an insulator for my feet
And I can barely feel the heat
And in the cold of this autumn like winter
Here are hands to warm my hands
And a soul to maybe dance with my soul

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