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Chagall
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Sappho Song
To me the man that sits across from you
Is a god
He listens carefully to your delicious voice
And your laughter
And if I meet you suddenly
My tongue breaks up and I can't speak
A thin flame runs under my skin
There's only noise, can't see a thing
Cold sweat rushes down on me, I'm trembling
Seizes me
I'm paler than the grass drying, oh, yes it seems
I'm dying, dying, dying
Die
Dying
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