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When December Sets In
Staring,
At the lone flame.
Bereft of color,
It burns out,
It's will to live
and breathes out
swirling smoke
that smells of dolor.
December creeps in
Like a snake,...
At the lone flame.
Bereft of color,
It burns out,
It's will to live
and breathes out
swirling smoke
that smells of dolor.
December creeps in
Like a snake,...
