so long, fare thee well,
the dancer and the dancing days have taken leave and fell,
so turn down this bed of stone,
quench me with the deadly nightshade from the rose that you belong...
the long december rain is falling now,
running down this streets to nowhere,
music is my life you're my sweetest nightingale,
but i can't hear it here no more,
and i go,
i go...
~pete teo~
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