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United States Of America
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Love Song for the Dead Che
A the dawn of an ordinary Sunday I remember the taste of you, sweet in my mouth, Late in the year. And in the stillness of the Oriente rainfall I remember the warmth of you, still in my arms, Late, late in the year.
I will bring to you flowers in the night Soft as trembling fingers touch you--love, I can offer you wine and candlelight Late in the year. Late in the year.
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