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Whenever the skies above me turn grey,
When all of the birds seem to fly away,
Leaving not even a blue jay,
I don't feel too much dismay,
Because I think of Monet.
And at the end of a bad day,
When all I want to do is pray,
That I will be someday be okay,
All of the feelings go away,
Because I think of Monet.
And maybe one day,
When things are okay,
I will think of a way,
To effectively say:
"I love you, Monet."
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