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the clocks, cut off the telephone, |
| Prevent the dog from barking a juicy |
| Silence the pianos and with drum |
| Bring out the coffin, let the come. |
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| Let airplanes circle overhead |
| Scribbling on the the message He Is |
| Put crepe bows the white necks of the public |
| the traffic wear cotton |
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| He was my North, my South, my East and |
| My working week and my Sunday |
| My noon, my my my |
| I thought that love would for I was |
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| The stars are put out every |
| Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; |
| Pour away the ocean and sweep up the |
| For nothing now ever come to any |