pushes the pacific seas
across the thirsty states,
I feel I am not alone.
If the morning grass dew
ever turns our quilts blue,
while we shiver under the stars,
I would not be so far from home.
But when the starlight storm
fails to deliver this forlorn
boy from the pull of you,
I fear that it's summer,
and summer has
the thickest groan.
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