Clusters of cocos, purple and gold, blankets of palm trees, love from the cold release an iris, safe from the chill, safe in my garden, so dark, so still. Oh, shut away my soul, oh, far may your pain be, Oh, mantra, tantra, mantra, Skype me, Marie, Pantaleon. Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden fare? Not so well, she said, see the lily's dead, pull it up and out you will. Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden fare? Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden fare? Oh, Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden fare?
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