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Is it romantic how all my elegiesEulogize me?I'm not cut out for all these cynical clonesThese hunters with cell phonesTake me to the LakesWhere all poets went to dieI don't belongAnd, my beloved, neither do youThose Windermere peaksLook like a perfect place to cryI'm setting offBut not without my museWhat should be overBurrowed under my skinIn heart-stopping waves of hurtI've come too far to watch some name dropping sleazeTell me what are my words worthTake me to the LakesWhere all poets went to dieI don't belongAnd, my beloved, neither do youThose Windermere peaksLook like a perfect place to cryI'm setting offBut not without my museI want auroras and sad proseI want to watch wisteria growRight over my bare feetCause I haven't moved in yearsAnd I want you right hereA red rose grew up out of ice frozen groundWith no one around to tweet itWhile I bathe in cliffside poolsWith my calamitous love and insurmountable griefTake me to the LakesWhere all poets went to dieI don't belongAnd, my beloved, neither do youThose Windermere peaksLook like a perfect place to cryI'm setting offBut not without my museNo, not withou you
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