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Rio's Attic: Celebrating the Life and Times of a Dearly Missed River Phoenix
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
Silence the pianos and with a muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come
Let aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message: He is Dead!
Put crepe bow around the necks of public doves
Let traffic policemen wear black, cotton gloves
He was my North, my South, my East, my West
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
I thought love would last forever, I was wrong
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun
Pour out the ocean and sweep up the wood
For nothing now could ever come to any good

W.H. Auden

Sofia Ahlin - Linköping, Sweden
October 11, 2005


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