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To Crack Would Be To Crumble

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To crack would be to crumbe, to crumble into rubble.
To sweat would be to melt, to melt into a puddle.
With the heat and with the air I crack with out a care.
And with the fire and with the flame I melt away the crumbling pain.

And to move would be to dance, dancing in the moonlight.
And to talk would be to sing, singing here at midnight.
Moving and dancing, and swaying along.
Singing so gently, singing my song.



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