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  • Under the midnight sky I danced;
    A warm breeze whispered in my ear,
    I am here.

    I dreamt I danced with Isadora

    An old man asks me to lift a flower to his daughter’s grave,
    Another woman faints in sorrow,
    It becomes real.

    I dreamt I danced with Isadora.

    Lay flowers down beside me,
    Capture me,
    The warm breeze whispers in my ear,
    I am here.

    From Auschwitz to Bickenou they fell,
    Coming out of flames,
    Holding up by ribs,
    One by one they fell,

    I tried to catch a shooting star but I fell amongst the flowers
    Rolling, when I stopped, I remembered we are all just flowers.

    Reflecting while visiting Père Lachaise Cemetery
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