New Year

Love's twisted logic ties its knots, neatly formed and justified.
Where are the flames in your hair? You comb them out each morning, and let them go out in the air.
We'll celebrate this evening, we'll thank our gods, and note the moon's position
against the bright stars.
We'll bring about a new year, to promise change, and though we'll never sow
no seeds, we'll pray for rain.

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