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Emmenagogue

She rises in the West
In the hollow of your chest
And the trees in the fields
Will clap their hands
And the grass on the hills
Will turn to sand

She rises in the West
In the sorrow of her rest
She died in the water
Of the wishing well
She lies in the water
But she wishes well

I learned my lesson

I never saw her coming
In the light
In the stark daylight
I never saw her running
Towards me with a knife

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