Hate is the thing with flames
That burns on and on
And blisters peoples hopes and dreams
And never stops -at all-
And hottest -in the evening- is felt
And burnt must be the night
That could smother out the midnight flame
That hurt so many's hearts
It's felt all over the distant land
Even in the deepest sea
And yet -never- in a million years
Will it give anything back to me.
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