The Shrine
I went down among the dust and pollen
To the old stone fountain in the morning after dawn
Underneath were all these pennies
Fallen from the hands of children
They were there and then were gone
And I wonder what became of them
What became of them
Sunlight over me no matter what I do
Apples in the summer, all cold and sweet
Everyday a'passin complete
I'm not one to ever pray for mercy
Or to wish on pennies in the fountain or the shrine
But that day, you know, I left my money
And I thought of you only
All that copper glowing fine
And I wonder what became of you
What became of you
Sunlight over me no matter what I do
Apples in the summer, all cold and sweet
Everyday a passing complete
Apples in the summer, all cold and sweet
Everyday a passing complete
In the morning, waking up to terrible sunlight
All diffuse like skin abused, the sun is half its size
When you talk you hardly even look in my eyes
In the morning, in the morning
In the doorway, holding every letter that I wrote
In the driveway, pulling away, putting on your coat
In the ocean, washing off my name from your throat
In the morning, in the morning
In the ocean, washing off my name from your throat
In the morning, in the morning
Green apples hang from my tree
They belong only to me
Green apples hang from my green apple tree
They belong only to, only to me
And if I just stay a while here staring at the sea
And the waves break ever closer, ever near to me
I will lay down in the sand and let the ocean lead
Carry me to Innisfree like pollen on the breeze
An Argument
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