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Jan 02, 2005 02:20

When the champagne’s left our stomachs cold
and all that’s left to hold to is that auld
lang syne of years you’d rather have forgotten

After hugs and laughs are shared around
we’re left with nothing but the sound
of a single heart beating slowly in our chest.

That first night spent alone again, and still
it’s not a change from the usual chill
one understands the three hundred nights before

So why should this feel strange amidst
the silent dreams that dance and twist
with no one to look upon the curtains of their familiar show?

Perhaps they’ve tired of the shuttered mind
that dreams but can no longer find
an answer in the visions that turn to dust from lack of use.

The greatest pity, then, goes to the beauty who’s been sold
into this cruel religion of teaching angel’s wings never to unfold.
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