The purple riot began
and took root slowly.
Who would have thought,
who would have known?
In the rearview mirror
it looks like spring again.
It snows every morning
and melts by evening.
The beauty that returned,
the songs that never cease.
One day, sitting nearby,
feeling the full purple riot—
the deep desire in your eyes
that sang to me all night,
the hand that almost reached,
the purple riot in your heart.
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