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Proletariat Love Song No.9
Tonight, my love
 I will not sing of the stars
 Yes, they are beautiful
 And you are beautiful
 But we have no time
 To waste metaphors
 On the night sky
 That looks on us with
 Nothing but refined contempt
 
 No bouquet for you my love
 You deserve better
 Than to be tricked into gratitude
 By death with a ribbon
 
 We can lie by the brook
 And watch the rock erode
 Or sit under the old oak
 And watch the leaves assault earth
 In their dying strife
 
 Strange to look with adoration
 Upon nature's beauty
 Which gives less than a damn about us
 
 I do not come tonight
 To watch the sunset
 Or to contemplate the waves
 That erase the relics
 Of those who tread in their path
 
 I do not bring gifts
 Our love is too pure
 To be defiled
 With commercialized seduction
 
 I come for you
 To hold you close
 To hear your breath's
 Amorous whisper
 To taste your lips
 And be blinded by the passion
 That shines from your eyes
 
 We dance
 To the primal rhythms
 Of nocturnal ecstasy
 
 Safe in the knowledge
 That our love
 Is stronger than
 The world's indifference
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