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The Man on the Moon

On late nights when the moon don’t shine
I see his face and I think of mine
I think of our hands
I think of our feet
Stumbling into carelessness
Grasping for forgiveness
I think of doors left open and windows ajar
I think of who you used to be and who you are
I remember the shadows and I remember the grief
And I wait for the moon and I wait for relief

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