What I can do cannot undo
What I have said I've said
The strange heaven of words
In the archives of the dead
Where all words go to be undone
Re-alphabetized re-strung
Until a better Mozart come
To hymn new languages
From the grunts and howls
Of our old ways of saying things
An even more enchanting flute
Played by a stuttering fool
Who sings the words we can't
Take back and the ones
We never want to lose
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