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Procol Harum Miscellaneous In the Autumn of My Madness In the autumn of my madness when my hair is turning grey for the milk has finally curdled and I've nothing left to say When all my thoughts are spoken (save my last departing birds) bring all my friends unto me and I'll strangle them with words In the autumn of my madness which in coming won't be long for the nights are now much darker and the daylight's not so strong and the things which I believed in are no longer quite enough for the knowing is much harder and the going's getting rough |
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