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The warm latterns pastel glowon a soft midnight wind they blow
The air filled with a heavenly scent
feels like alls supposed to be meant
I hear your voice on the velvet air
I turn to glance, catch your stare
We hold our glance, like a spark
colour beams out from the dark
we climb over others to meet
under a lampost in the street
Here we are face to face
tempting fate to our embrace
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