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■ The oak
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Once upon a Monday evening,
far from any breathing earthling, far from sigh & far from laughter, dreading sun & mornin’ after, there lay the Moon Girl. Love of white light & soothing chill, hate of sleep and wish to kill softly and then numbly drink till morning bed sends her a whisper. Drops of the Moon Girl’s soul. Songs that ears cannot hear, whispers left to haunt the air, earth that covers every fear… Moon Girl, Moon Girl, night is gone, Go with it, the story’s done. All the world’s a fairy-tale only your eyes can see; Blood, and pain, and our despair, blindness, fright, and misery. The magic of the world is dead. Dead but haunting hearts that still adore the Moon.
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