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��Under the orange tree her signing is heard and in the grass the tree's fruit forms a carpet of pure gold. She's a sun and her song the sunrise of a new day to which I can't go back. Asleep, in my dreams she's still there, she's there- she's there- she's there- smiling smiling, and laughing and it hurts-- it hurts- and hurts and I don't want to wake again. ��

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