A smile that's wiped off from your face;
An angel which did this from grace.
It's that which comes after a pride;
A shooting star, a meteorite.
Into traps and on hard times;
Soldiers do this into lines;
Into rhythm with a song;
Into place: plans don't go wrong.
What night and silence do so well;
When prices thus more goods will sell;
Water pours from the cliff above;
What you do when you trip into love.
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