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status quo
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Hyacinth garden the day is late hear the north wind blow
fear of time and betrayed love mark my place in this row
listening for whispers from a sky that saw the twilight glow
an anxious refrain like the wind moaning and wailing so low
do you hear me call you in the night through your candle lit window
echoes of somone, somewhere sighing, in a procession such a long time ago
sun’s last rays trace their light, enrapt in jagged pain, another night of status quo
