Something about mist and steam is not smoke
Something about broken water spouts
Rainbowing oases in the desert
Rewinds me
And reminds me
Somewhere about beavers' dams
Is neither business or residential
And the bee's flight is beside dancing and language
And the geese's chevron has only north
I'd sort it out
--
If I could
But I'd have only north
--
If I could
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