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A Smile Summit True
A Smile Summit True
Oh, the young do await the game;
They put off ‘til the morrow,
The weight of dreams to bear;
They blunt the anguish and sorrow,
Now;
Draw near my sullen few;
I’ll whisper in your ear: the neon
Glow, the murmur low calls one
On to chase it; yet such love
Is lame;
A dirty shame;
Our scars will never show it,
Yet,
In heaven they all know it.
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