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Jan 24
Our love is the flower
Which blooms on the unknown mountain.
Our love is beautiful.
Never picked and displayed in the imperior's palace,
Never put down to the soldier's grave.
Our love is swinging in the wind.
Our love is opening the petals to the sun.
Our love is always glad if it rains.
Our love never fade in the imperior's vase,
Our love never wither on the lonely grave.
Our love will give seeds
Like others,
Like others.
Our love is the flower,
Wild flower.
Victoria Myron
Written by
Victoria Myron  F/Manchester
     Jules DelPercio, Yann and Heather
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