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The Dawning of a Different Hour It's the silence before the storm, Maddening thoughts of twisted mind; The eerie calm of grey clouds rise On this day so petrified, I've lived through this before. It's the dawning of a different hour, The clock strikes twelve at midnight's tide; The moon hangs so gallantly high In the darkness of the sky, Until the rain comes down. It's the feeling of cool rain, Beating down on my up-turned face; The memory of a stolen kiss Resting on my tender lips, Spreading across my skin. It's the lure of temptation, Dancing with the flame of desire; The courting of a little fire To get my soul feeling lighter, In this springtime of hope. |
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