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4
3
2
1
(YAeMJ)
Never knowing we could dine and
To linger when
They draw their bows across
Serrated edges of
The air turns cold
Musical saws and crush
The frigid sharply pointed
Dash into that nullifying snow
Defying pressure to defer to
Hearts of icicles like us
crush crush crush crush
Cackling Geese and Western Gulls
crush crush crush cruuuuush
crush crush cruuuuuush
