The squalls, sequestered by the
sun then next to me, but
now a chill is dropping on
the crimson-tinted sea
Josephine, was it you, Josephine?
Scattered in the grasses,
asleep amongst the strew, I
gathered every part of me
when I awoke to blue
Was it you, Josephine, was it you?
Was it you, Josephine, was it you?
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