Good Morning - Midnight -
"Heaven" -- is what I cannot -
He fumbles at your soul [version 1]
He fumbles at your soul [version 2]
Her breast is fit for pearls,
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
I reckon - when I count
I showed her Hights
My river runs to Thee -
Rearrange a "Wife's" Affection!
September's Baccalaureate
There is a solitude of space
They shut me up in Prose- [version 1]
They shut me up in Prose- [version 2]
We lose_ because we win-
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