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Lucy

The sangs she wrot,
smell'd lark 'er nape.
Her flesh, e'en rot,
blissin' escape.

Her hair, it gath'r
'neath barren skull,
kisses I slath'r
on 'er broken hull.

'er grave, visit I,
paradoxical sorrow.
angel of the broken sky
soon enough an' I'll a-follow.

She I lave, the ocean murder,
Lucitania.
Written by fret
Published
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