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The Final War



Sway slow, oh spring-morning oaks
  when my love rests beneath your growing leaves
and I speak softly at the sound

  When we have finally fallen through
into the wide open fields
    where the sun will never fade

And I am rewarded for the struggle
  and we both come to taste the wonder
of passion's twirling kiss

When the summer comes from shattered spring
  to live and move and breathe
in you, in me
      when we've finally broken free

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