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■ The oak
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You are black,
I am white, Then we take turns And I am black, You are white, When put together We are grey. White as the lily, Black as the grave, A sad ceremony Of tears and pain. Black as the raven, White as the dove, We fight up in heavens And we lose two feathers. One brings the night, The other makes the day. When a drop of blood Touches the ground The world becomes All coloured again.
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