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My orchid has died
I left it inside
Away from the sun
When the birds did not come

Oh, I'm sorry for the things that I can't do for you
But in the morning I'll write another song for you

And we collect stones
From a man who breaks them all up
To replace our bones
When there's no more wine in our cups

Oh, I'm sorry for the things that I can't do for you
But in the morning I'll write another song for you
Song for you, song for you
(Song for you, song for you)

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