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from: Strawman
She walks at night around the Seine
calling after his embrace
love went mad when they were young
bindings she cannot unlace
but he's too far away to hear
years have past since he set sail
leaving soot on cobblestones
she stumbles over now to wail


In their brilliance they'd laugh
while planning to revise the earth
her brush would paint the night sky red
his pen describe the moon's rebirth
But he remembers this with doubt
a path he took to be untrue
a diplomat with family now
and passions he chose to subdue

Their love was colorful and wild,
the kind that brings the deepest joy,
the kind that bears the purest truth,
the kind ambition will destroy

The paintings that she never sold
brought the madness to her eye
drove her wild with disbelief
and drove her lover from her side
Now children that they never had
cling like demons to her dress
follow her around the town
and wring the madness from her chest