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My Brothers and Sisters Let Us Return to Black Love

Tender young flowering blossoms
With shoots of remarkable beauty
Race to the top
Only to be cut down by yardsmen
Eager for wilt of tender bodies
Hands of musty soil grip hard
Leave with dead flowers in tow

One has learned to live
And so has the other
But none has learned to live
one for the other

One has learned to love
And so has the other
But none has learned to love
one for the other
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