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The scent I miss
Not for reasons of bliss
But simply this

The scent of old paper
To read a new caper
Or of the candlestick maker

So many worlds to explore
You even had a second floor
I miss you old bookstore
Online shopping stinks when you can’t smell the paper
The tears just keep falling, my dear,
Rolling down my face.
With each one there's a helpless hope,
It would wash the pain away.

But sadly it doesn't, dear.
And my chest just keeps hurting,
From each tear that lands upon it,
Falling from cheeks that just keep burning.

Oh, wash away the pain, my love.
Just wash this pain away.
Awaken from your weary sleep,
And clear the sadness from my face.

It burns so bad, my baby.
Deep within my bones.
And this fire in my veins won't die.
Not until you're home.
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