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Sound Rush
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Ghost Story
One morning, early, I heard it It was close behind me
It's a ghost story
I hate to be alone with the shadow Because at any moment I might see something That would crouch and sink and lie like a black pool And then slowly draw itself into the shadow that was nearest Often, that shadow was my own And then, one morning, early, I heard it It was close behind me A ghost story
And it was only a sigh It was worse than the thing that crept into the shadows
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