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The moment
On this soft, soft Otis Redding summer night
I am stirred by the touch of her hand
I know at last she understands
This warm embrace under dying light
On this soft, soft Otis Redding summer night
alone, feeling lost and done for
I am stirred by the touch of her hand
as she places the old blue scarf on my shoulder
I know at last she understands
I will sleep with the memory
of that warm embrace under dying light