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In a string of twirly, twisting pearls
and into the looking glass
I saw a lady in Versace passing by
o' the fate of Omar Khayyam -
thrice-broken and then I turned around
what is love without you?
Yet, as fate entwined, departed since,
it's all a shell game,
did you throw me into the labyrinth
or was it the other, third?
I'll toast with fate instead and smile
It's all the bohemians verse!
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