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the vines of ivy look so green
you look like something familiar
and smell like summers past
reminding me of all the times
I couldn't make love last
and maybe the past is still too close
i cant get it out of my mind
while the paints still wet
i will try to make the best of the moments
that still stand there like a sign
fixed in the present but seeing only the past
how could i ever think of more?
but i will never regret the moments that ive spent
thinking of the day you came through that door
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