What can you do for me?
How do I hear?
Are your ways above mine?
Asks the image of your eye.
Does love work upon my soul?
O self oval of shade and light.
The constant that no one exceeds.
The weather to be of life or not.
Yes my mother carried me.
So I thank her for my tea.
Now I make another life.
In the image of my eye.
River flows in time of night.
And I open gristle white.
Could you ache awhile with me?
Pulling South by North in three.
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