Cherry-tree
You wearing cherry-drops .
Your body wooden breathless
Enmeshed by spiders ropes.
And either widened or narrowed
Your cheerful crown against breeze.
You're feed a hundred little sparrows
And now you got to go with peace.
As time goes by you got some older
And you've become dead standing tree.
And life just wrote your case in folder
And save your soul and set it free
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