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7-6 7-6 ABAB |
| Of all the words I've written Of all the words I've said. Of all the times been smitten The many times I bled. Do not ask of the future Do not glance at your past. Do not seek until mature The ripened vine grows vast. Search for the brightest full moons Search for those who need love. Search for poems and good tunes Search for all the above. |