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Mar 2017
If hearts could race as the sun sets on
Isn't it the same at the break of dawn?  

Her mouth whispers something in the lines of hailstorms
Trying to find solace in singing tunes of the classic Waits Tom

She was engrossed in her own calamity
In her quest of the utmost soul-searching identity.
Written by
   ---, Elizabeth Squires and ---
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