Seeking Clara
Clara, Clara come out to play
And rise from your satin bed
Close the door against the day
And I won’t tell you’re dead
Clara my sweet Clara
The angels bid you wake
The tyrants rise before your eyes
Against a closed mistake
Clara oh sweet Clara
Remember why you’re dead
And why you lay among the stones
That gently forms your bed
Clara, Clara come out to play
Awake oh gentle loom
And weave your meaning in the day
And out from the tomb
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