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Hard winds blowing
Across this beach
That we hoped for
And all of our feelings scattered
And all of our ships
Sunken for good in the sea
Of what is not told
From the masts
That are breaking
Loose sails of cambraia
With each measured stroke attempted
One less boat
Afloat on the sea
One more corpse on the beach
The day never reached
Dies in these changing tides
And there's always a day ending
Next to the Sargaço
Spread out to dry
Next to things
Hmm, that were not made
